Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps
by Lipton Lee
Summary: Summary: Bryce Larkin and Jo Harvelle are thrown into the worst mission ever, as they attempt to stage a successful wedding in the hopes of drawing out a terrorist. The problem? They kind of hate each other. (A follow-up to Machine (Hooked Into))
1. Chapter 1

Title: Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps  
Rating: PG-13 for some crazyness  
Fandoms: Chuck, Supernatural, Gilmore Girls, and like…everything else in the world  
Pairings: Chuck/Sarah, Bryce/Jo, everything else ever  
Summary: Bryce Larkin and Jo Harvelle are thrown into the worst mission ever, as they attempt to stage a successful wedding in the hopes of drawing out a terrorist. The problem? They kind of hate each other.

The alarm went off just after her eyes shot open and she reached out with a thin hand to hit the snooze button. A little too hard, apparently because she knocked it off the bedside table and it clattered to the floor.

She huffed and rolled over, pushing her blonde hair away from her eyes and letting the nightmare she'd been having drift away from her. If she was going to go to work, she'd need a clear head.

"No distractions, Harvelle," Casey always said. "You get distracted in the field you get dead."

There were some days Jo Harvelle wondered if she should very well be dead, but today wasn't one of them; she couldn't afford for it to be.

Shaking off the rest of her bad dream, she slid out of bed and headed for the bathroom for a quick shower. Quick not because she was running late, but because being early for a meeting with your NSA superiors wouldn't be a bad idea.

It was still a little surreal, even three years later, that she was working for the NSA, living in a nice little apartment in DC that she barely used because her new job took her anywhere and everywhere at the drop of a hat.

They'd come to her after the Apocalypse had been stopped. Of course they'd known it was going on. It was naive for any of them to think that just because the FBI was clueless, other agencies were as well.

She'd had nothing, then; no job, no home, and they had offered her a purpose.

"You don't have to live this life," Casey had told her. "I'm offering you a chance to start over. Serve your country. You're tough, and you're smart, and it's being wasted."

That had been insulting, that last part.

"Guys like the Winchesters, they're in too deep," Casey had explained. "Not only is their rap sheet the length of a football field, but they're technically dead. You...what do you have? A couple of misdemeanors? If that?"

It had been a hard choice. It meant leaving a lot of ghosts behind, and giving up on a lot of old ideas; coming to the realization that being a hunter didn't really bring her any closer to the father she barely remembered, and that her mother had been right to try and keep her out of that life.

Jo wished she could tell her that. But it was a little on the late side, considering the woman had died.

She wondered what her mother would think of her new job.

Ellen Harvelle would have probably hated it, and told her that "just cause it ain't hunting, that don't mean it's not dangerous."

Which it was.

Dean had been completely, totally right in his summation of the human race: "Demons I get. People are crazy." And few were crazier than terrorists.

But she had come to count those few in the "crazier than a terrorist" category as colleagues, and acquaintances. Because, she figured out, that most of the people who resided in said category worked for National Security and Central Intelligence, and if they didn't do that, they were probably hunters.

"You never really get out of the life," Sam had once said to her, before he died. "You can hide from it for a little bit, but you're never really out. It'll always be there, waiting to swallow you up. Just cause it can."

Jo got dressed, grabbed her bag and headed for her car.

* * *

Bryce Larkin was supposed to be dead.

It was something that people had been saying to him for a number of years, ever since that ugly business with Fulcrum and the Ring, and the Intersect and all of that other crazy crap that had pulled his college roommate from the doldrums of the Burbank Buy More into the spy life.

Bryce should have been dead. He couldn't remember how many times he'd been shot, but it was a lot, and he was still alive.

The last time he'd seen the aforementioned college roommate the man had dubbed him "Dead!Bryce."

Leave it to Chuck Bartowski to be an asshole and yet totally endearing at the same time.

He supposed after everything that had happened Bryce deserved a whole lot worse than a little ribbing, and he was grateful that Chuck was still willing to be his friend, even though he didn't completely trust him, and probably never would again.

Now, Bryce was sitting in the waiting room outside General Beckman's office, awaiting his next mission. Across from him sat a petite, pretty blonde, and he wondered if they had conflicting appointments or if she was merely early. He had the ten AM spot, after all, and it was nine fifty-five.

They glanced at each other for a moment and then the woman crossed her arms and looked away.

'Oh,' Bryce thought absently. 'Yowch. Cold fish.'

The door to the office opened and Jenna-the-secretary walked out. "The General will see you now."

Bryce got to his feet, and so did the blonde.

"Uh...this is my appointment," he said, giving her a charming, yet awkward smile.

The woman merely rolled her eyes and headed for the office door. "Somebody never learned to share their toys."

Bryce frowned, but followed. "I can share," he muttered. "Share all the time..."

General Diane Beckman looked up at them sharply, taking them in, obviously critiquing them in her head. What she was critiquing them on, or why, Bryce had no idea, but he, like the agent next to him, stood up straight with his hands behind his back.

"Agent Larkin. Agent Harvelle. Have a seat."

They both did, taking the chairs without really acknowledging each other.

"Agent Joanna Harvelle," the General said, nodding to the woman. "Meet Agent Bryce Larkin of the CIA."

Bryce nodded. "Harvelle."

"Larkin," she nodded back. She was obviously trying not to smirk at him, but he wasn't sure what was so funny. Did he have something in his teeth?

"You shouldn't be so formal with each other," Beckman told them. "After all. You're going to be married in a month."

Silence fell over the office. Bryce looked at Harvelle, his blue eyes wide and shocked. She didn't look much better with her nose scrunched and her brown eyes narrowed at him.

Bryce opened his mouth and turned to the General. "While I'm glad that Agents Bartowski and Walker are on their way to having their spy flavored happily ever after, I don't think forcing marriages on agents-"

"The terrorist Cameron James is back on US soil," Beckman interrupted him.

Bryce shut his mouth. "Right. This is a mission."

Harvelle snorted, and he rewarded her with a glare.

"James will no doubt be after you, Agent Larkin," Beckman went on. "And we have to draw him out. A wedding is the perfect setup."

"And we're all aware that he's the bride in this situation, right?" Harvelle smirked, pointing a thumb at Bryce, whose face soured.

"Agent Harvelle, this is serious," Beckman scolded. "The two of you are to make the next month as public as possible. Other agents will be posing as family and friends, and you'll have a budget and a wedding planner provided for you."

"Other agents," Bryce repeated. "Do I get to pick these other agents?"

Beckman sighed. "Don't worry, Agent Larkin. Chuck and Sarah are on a plane from Burbank as we speak, along with Colonel Casey, who will be posing as Jo's uncle."

"Jo?" Bryce asked, turning to Harvelle. "They call you Jo? Like...Joe the plumber?"

"People who live in glass houses and have dumbass names like Bryce shouldn't throw stones," Jo told him. She turned back to Beckman. "Is Sarah gonna be on my side or his?"

His eyes widened. "You know Sarah?"

"Agent Walker and Colonel Casey helped train Agent Harvelle, and as I understand it, Agent Harvelle and Agent Walker have...a past," Beckman explained. "You'll have to work out the relations of each agent for yourselves."

Bryce huffed and sat up. "With all due to you, General, and to...Agent Harvelle...I don't know if I can work with her on this. I'm used to working alone."

"Doesn't share toys, and doesn't play well with others," Jo said under her breath with a smirk.

Bryce closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Agent Harvelle was trained by Colonel Casey. Who, I'm sure we're all aware, doesn't like me very much. I don't see how things will run smoothly if I'm working a very sensitive job with one of his students."

"Figure it out," Beckman told him. "And Agent Harvelle, please stop teasing Agent Larkin. He's apparently feeling sensitive today."

"Must be that time of the month," Jo commented.

Bryce sat back, crossing his arms. Clearly, he wasn't going to win any sort of verbal spar, at least not here.

The General cleared her throat. "Agent Larkin, you and Agent Harvelle will be provided a townhouse for the next month to give the allusion that the two of you are a couple preparing for your wedding."

One glance at Jo told Bryce that she wasn't expecting that at all.

"You will live together, go on scheduled dates, and do all the things a normal couple in love would do. We will place agents around the corner of the townhouse at all times, and we already have a team tailing James."

"One question, General," Bryce said. "If we're making this highly public, what's to stop our real families from finding out?"

"Nothing," she said simply. "We're banking on making this look as real as possible."

Bryce's jaw clenched. That was not good. He turned to Harvelle. "You can't possibly be alright with this; involving your family in this."

A cold silence fell over the room, and Bryce felt the color drain from his face. He glanced at Jo, who shifted in her chair, and didn't meet his eyes.

"Oh."

"You're both dismissed," Beckman said.

* * *

"How do you know Sarah?"

Oddly Bryce had a hard time keeping up with Jo as they walked out of the NSA building.

"She trained me."

Bryce shook his head. "Beckman said there was a different connection. And Sarah doesn't train people. The CIA is too wary of how uncontrollable she can be to let her train anybody."

Jo scoffed a little as she headed toward an old blue GTO. "I guess that makes sense. She always was a little wild."

"You gonna answer my question?" Bryce called after her. "We are supposed to be getting married now, you know."

"You're the super spy," she threw over her shoulder as she opened up the car door. "You figure it out."

Bryce watched her hop into the car and start a grumbling engine.

It wasn't until after she'd driven off that he realized that she had taken the directions to their new townhouse with her, and he had no idea where he was supposed to go.

* * *

After obtaining the information he needed back in Beckman's office, Bryce hopped into the car the CIA had provided him and sped off down the road.

He sighed heavily. It was going to be a long month.

Bryce played with his blue tooth, getting it settled on his ear as he drove and managed to get Chuck's number dialed in.

"This is Agent Bartowski! How can I service you?"

"Funny, Chuck."

"Hey, Buddy. How's it going? How's your new assignment treating you?"

Bryce sighed. "You mean my impending phony nuptials with Agent Harvelle? We're spending a month undercover as an engaged couple, and apparently staging a fake wedding to draw out a terrorist."

"I heard. Very RomCom."

"Tell me about it."

"It'd make a great movie."

"Yep."

"So? How is engaged life?" Chuck teased.

Bryce rolled his eyes. "Stop it. When are you getting here?"

"Tomorrow," Chuck said. "We're packing today."

"Is Sarah there?"

"Yes she is."

"Can I have a word?"

"I will check." Chuck's hand covered the receiver, but Bryce could still hear bits and pieces of conversation, and then a heavy sigh.

"Hi, Bryce."

"Hey, Sarah."

"What?"

"Not happy to hear from me?" Bryce asked.

"I'm fine hearing from you," Sarah replied simply. "Since when do we do small talk? What do you need?"

"Joanna Harvelle."

Sarah became oddly quiet at that.

"Sarah?"

"How do you know Jo?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," Bryce told her. "I just got paired up on this mission with her. Beckman said you helped train her, but I know that you've never been assigned a trainee. Well, Chuck. But that hardly counts."

"Jo...Bryce, Jo is my sister."

"What?" Bryce asked.

"What?" Chuck cried in the background.

Sarah sighed heavily. "Not...really. Not technically. But we grew up together."

Bryce frowned. "Good to know. I should probably let you go so you can explain the details to your boyfriend."

"Yes you should."

"See you, Sarah."

* * *

Bryce tapped on the door of the old row house in Dupont Circle and sighed heavily, looking around the nice neighborhood. It had taken a lot longer than he'd hoped to get into the city, but what did he expect from a place built for the purpose of confusing people.

The door swung open and there was Jo, leaning casually, wearing a pair of cutoff jean shorts and a black t-shirt; a far cry from the tailored dress she'd worn in General Beckman's office. She grinned. "Took you long enough."

Bryce grimaced. "Can I come in, please?"

She stepped aside and let him step into the house. It had been redone and decorated, obviously by the NSA and CIA. It was narrow, but long; the living room furnished nicely with a large fireplace and an ornate staircase just in front of the door. There was a half wall that separated the living room from the small, but functional kitchen, and there was a bar to sit at instead of a kitchen table. Through the kitchen, Bryce could see a doorway that hid another staircase.

"Nice place," he told her.

She nodded. "Yeah. They didn't skimp. Bedrooms are upstairs, along with the bathroom."

"There's only one?"

Jo nodded again. "Just one. Looks like we'll get to know each other pretty well."

"Lock on the bathroom door works?"

"Your delicate sensibilities are in luck," Jo told him. "They dropped off some real terrible photoshopped pictures of us while we were at Fort Meade; hung 'em up all over."

"You'd think they'd hire better graphic artists," Bryce muttered as he got a look at a photo of the two of them, cuddling on a picnic blanket. Bryce's head in the photo was much too small for the body it was placed on, and the tilt of Jo's head didn't match her body language at all.

Jo grinned a little and then crossed her arms. "Make yourself at home."

Bryce nodded and watched her walk toward the kitchen, before following her. "We should probably get to know each other. We're supposed to be getting married after all."

She turned to him and leaned against the bar. "Yeah, okay."

They stared at each other in silence for a long moment.

"Okay," Bryce said awkwardly. "Okay, I'll start. My name is Bryce. I was born and raised in Connecticut. I went to Stanford University, and am now apparently fake marrying you."

"Well, it's real nice to meet you," Jo replied thinly.

He waited patiently, rocking on his heels and looking around the cheerily decorated kitchen, with its blue and white checkered wallpaper, and white tiles.

"It's your turn," Bryce said quickly as his patience wore out.

Jo sighed. "I'm Jo. I was born and raised in Nebraska. I, apparently, am fake marrying you right back."

"That's it? That's all I get?"

"What else do you want, my bra size?"

Bryce grinned charmingly. "Wouldn't hurt."

"Ooh, he thinks he's funny."

"Where'd you go to school?"

"I didn't go to college," she told him, pulling open the large refrigerator and pulling a beer out.

Bryce frowned for a moment before recovering. "Well, you're a beer drinker. I know that now."

Jo rolled her eyes.

"I know something else about you," Bryce said.

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"Sarah Walker is your sister."

She stopped and then grinned a little as she lifted a leg, using the heel of her boot to pop the cap off of her beer. "Used that super spy crap to find out, huh?"

"I made a phone call," he replied lightly, watching her. "She's dating an old buddy of mine."

Jo frowned. "Sarah's got a boyfriend?"

"Shocked me, too."

"Huh."

"What?"

"Never pictured Sarah having a steady relationship," Jo told him. "She never seemed the type. Especially after joining the CIA."

"She definitely had the tendency to be a little cold," Bryce agreed.

Jo quirked an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"We dated."

She groaned. "God, I've stepped into All My Spies, haven't I?"

Bryce grinned a little. "Something like that."

Jo shook her head. "How do you CIA Spooks get anything done when all you do is sleep with each other?"

Bryce gave a short laugh. "We manage."

"Uh-huh."

He bit his lip, still trying to figure her out. "There a beer in there for me?"

"I dunno. Is there?" she asked, taking a sip from her own bottle.

Bryce shook his head and pulled the refrigerator open, looking inside at its full stock. "You really are a cold fish. You're not even trying."

"Trying to what?" Jo snapped, turning to him. "Flirt with you? You want me to get all giggly and melt all over you cause you're some hot shot spy?"

"Hey- I just wish you'd be more friendly," Bryce bit back, pointing the beer bottle he'd just pulled from the fridge at her.

"I've known you for like an hour!" Jo cried.

"And I've known you for an hour," he pointed out. "You don't see me giving you the cold shoulder."

"Mhm. That's cause you're tryin'a get into my pants."

Bryce stared at her for a long moment, before starting a search for a bottle opener in the kitchen cabinets. He had to be honest; Jo was beautiful, and if it weren't for her freezer-burn attitude, he'd try harder to flirt with her. "That's only a little true."

Jo rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Whatever, Super Spy Barbie."

He scoffed. "Me? I am not Super Spy Barbie, you are Super Spy Barbie."

She crossed her arms. "Oh really? I thought I was a cold fish."

"You _are _a cold fish," he said through gritted teeth as he pulled a silver bottle opener from the back of a drawer.

"Well this cold fish is takin' her beer up to the master bedroom," Jo told him as she headed for the back staircase.

"You do that!" Bryce cried as he struggled to get his beer open.

"I will!" She called down from the stairs.

"Fine!" he growled.

"Fine!"

A door slammed on the second floor just as the cap to Bryce's beer flew across the room, and he spilled the contents of the bottle all over his shirt.

He slumped back against the counter with a groan.


	2. Chapter 2

Jo paced the master bedroom, her cell phone on speaker in one hand, and her beer bottle in the other.

"How could you ever date this guy, Sare? He's a jackass."

"He's an agent, Jo," Sarah pointed out. "There are very few of us who aren't jackasses."

Jo groaned and slumped down onto the king sized bed. "He's so...fake. It's like he's made of plastic."

"And for a long time, I was made of steel, remember?" Sarah said. "You get into that CIA headspace for too long and it's hard to pull back out of it."

Jo grumbled.

Sarah's voice took on an amused tone. "One way or another, you're gonna have to figure out how to work with him. A whole month is a long time to hate somebody's guts, especially when you're living with them."

"Hey," Jo said, clearly ready to change the topic. "You never told me you had a boyfriend."

She waited for a long moment, wondering if Sarah had turned tail and hung up on her before a reply finally came.

"I...I was undercover for over a year, you know," Sarah said softly. "And...I was trying to keep everything under wraps."

"Please. You just didn't wanna tell me."

"You make fun of me!"

"I am your sister, it's my job!"

Sarah laughed at that. "Fine. His name is Chuck. He's very handsome, and I'm very happy."

"Well, good," Jo said, a grin on her face.

"You'll get to meet him when we get there," Sarah said. "We are playing, respectively, your sister, and Bryce's best friend."

"Ooh. I get to tease you in person."

Sarah groaned. "Please tell me Dean is coming, so you'll have someone else to poke fun at..."

"Haven't heard from him," Jo muttered. "Not since..."

"Yeah, me neither," Sarah said. "There's a girlfriend, you know."

"What?!" Jo laughed. "You mean he hasn't married his car yet?"

Sarah laughed too.

Jo blew out a breath. "Think I should call him?"

"Who, Dean? I don't know..." Sarah trailed off for a moment before sighing. "I tried to call him when Sam first died but..."

"He didn't pick up?" Jo offered. "He did the same to me. Still talks to your Dad though I think. That's what Bobby said."

"You know what it is," Sarah told her. "It's that he feels guilty about what happened to your mom. That's why he won't talk to you."

"What about you?"

"Oh, come on," Sarah groaned. "You know why. He's mad at me because I wasn't around to help."

Jo wrinkled her nose. "Bobby wanted to keep you out of all that End of the World crap."

"Doesn't matter," Sarah said, and Jo could tell she was shrugging. "I'm family. I shoulda been there."

Jo sighed and rubbed her eye. "Sare...come on..."

"No, he's right."

"He's not," Jo told her firmly. "He's just...screwed up. He and Sammy might as well have been twins, you know? Attached at the hip. He'll come around. You'll see."

She could hear Sarah smile a little. "Thanks, Sis." She paused for a minute, before going on. "Give Bryce a chance. I know he's..."

"A jack-ass?"

Sarah laughed. "I was going to say 'difficult,' but okay. He's jack-ass. But he's a jack-ass you have to work with. So give him a chance."

Jo huffed. "Yeah, okay. Other'n the boyfriend, how are you?"

"I'm good," Sarah said, and her voice was genuinely light and happy. "Things are good. Working for SHIELD right now, and I started teaching a self defense class."

Jo snorted. "That is right up your alley."

"Isn't it? I'm really good at it," Sarah boasted. "I might even have something to fall back on if I ever decide to quit the spy life."

"That somethin' you're thinking about?"

Sarah stayed silent for a moment. "Well...not this hot second, but I've been doing this for a long time. A lot longer than you...one day, it might be time."

"What so you can settle down?" Jo snickered. "Pop out a couple of kids, buy a minivan and a house in the suburbs and contribute to bake sales?"

Sarah scoffed. "Don't you have a terrorist to catch? A mission to complete?"

"Ain't like he's shown his face yet," Jo muttered, glancing out the window of the bedroom and out onto the street. "We'll get to it when it presents itself."

"Shouldn't you be going after him?"

"Beckman said no," Jo said, sitting down on the couch by the window. "Said we should wait it out, draw him out slowly."

"That woman knows how to torture people far too well for her own good."

"You're tellin me," Jo snorted. "Wish I could just find the sucker and pop a cap in him, but orders are orders, so..."

"Hang in there," Sarah said teasingly. "You'll get to shoot something soon."

"Bryce better hope like hell it ain't him," Jo grumbled.

"Aaaaand we're back to Bryce," Sarah said. "Either you really hate him, or you really like him and you don't want to admit it."

"Gross. Shut up."

"I call it like I see it," Sarah replied. "You used to do this all the time; find a guy, hate his guts and then sleep with him."

"I'm on a job! I'm not gonna have sex with him," Jo snapped. "Jesus, Sare."

"It wouldn't be a bad thing," Sarah commented. "And...he's not terrible in the-"

"No," Jo cut her off. "No, no, no, we are not having this conversation. Ever."

Sarah's smile came through the phone. "Okay. Never mind."

"Damn right, never mind."

"See you tomorrow?" Sarah offered.

"Yeah."

"Bye, sis."

"Bye," Jo said. She hung up, and downed the rest of her beer.

* * *

Bryce paced the living room, taking it all in, mulling over his predicament.

A fake wedding.

One that his parents and sister would be informed of, and would more than likely show up for.

He waited nervously for his phone to go off; to play that Edvard Grieg piano concerto that his mother hated so much, and so therefore had to be her ringtone on his cell.

And then the real trouble would start. Because on top of rooming with Jo Cold Fish Harvelle and having to pretend to be happily engaged to her, his mother would demand complete control over the proceedings, despite the fact that this was a government-run sting to root out a terrorist.

_"God knows if you'll ever actually get married,"_ his mother would say. _"So I might as well plan your wedding while I have the chance!"_

That voice, his mother's voice, was enough to send him from the living room up the front staircase and banging on the door to the master bedroom.

Or what he thought was the master bedroom.

"Open up, Harvelle!" he cried, still pounding his fist.

The door adjacent to the one he was facing opened and he turned to find Jo standing there, quirking an eyebrow.

"What?"

"We are gonna make this work," he told her, bounding into the bedroom. "We are gonna be the best fake engaged couple that ever was, we...are gonna get to know each other so well, that even my crazy, dark-hearted mother is going to believe that we are a real, honest-to-god couple. We're gonna do this mission right, and that starts right here, right now...Woman!"

Jo slowly turned to face him, and he knew, from her raised eyebrows and disbelieving look that that last add-on had been the wrong move.

"Okay. Forget...forget the 'woman' part," Bryce said. "Forget that."

"Uh-huh."

"I'm Bryce Larkin. My real last name is Gilmore, I was born and raised in Hartford Connecticut, I went to Stanford to be an engineer and came out a CIA agent instead. I've been with the Company for around ten years. My favorite color is blue, my favorite food is a really nice beef bourguignon and I hate, and I mean hate, tuna salad."

He stared at her, his mind racing, and breathing hard from all the talking.

After a moment, Jo laughed.

Bryce growled and stalked toward the door, but she grabbed him by the back of the shirt and pulled him back in and onto the couch by the window.

"Look," she said, standing in front of him. "I don't do sharing real well. Even before I joined the NSA I did a hell of a lot of lying so...truths ain't easy."

"Okay," Bryce said, taking a deep breath. "Let's start with...full name."

"Joanna Beth Harvelle."

"Ouch," Bryce muttered.

"I will kick you so hard," she threatened, pointing at him.

He shook his head out. "Sorry. It's just a little...southern is all."

"Uh-huh."

"Where'd you grow up?" he asked.

"Nebraska."

"Where in Nebraska?"

"Nowhere you've heard of."

"Come on, Jo," he whined. "I need to know these things. Where?"

She huffed. "Just outside Broken Bow."

Bryce blinked, not saying anything.

"What did I say?"

He waved his hands, as if erasing something and shook his head. "Where'd you go to school?"

"We been over this, I didn't."

"So what'd you do instead?" he asked.

"Hunted demons, tended bar."

Silence fell over the bedroom, and Bryce stared with his mouth hanging open.

"Oh, for cryin' out loud," Jo grumbled. "I know they teach you pretty boy CIA agents about demons and hunters at the Farm, don't pretend like that ain't true."

"Yeah, but...wow. You...wait." He got to his feet and snapped a finger. "Of course you were a hunter, you're Sarah's sort of sister, Sarah's dad's a hunter."

Jo gave him a look as if he were the slowest person on earth.

"That makes sense," he said, calming down, and sitting down again. "So...favorite color."

"Green."

"And food?"

"Fried catfish."

"I...have never had the pleasure."

"Kinda figured."

He blew out a breath. "Most hated food?"

"frozen spinach."

"Good," he said, on his feet again. "This was great. We are on our way. We'll start again tomorrow."

Jo shook her head and followed him to the door. "You are the strangest, most irritating person I've ever met. And I know Dean Winchester."

He just grinned before ducking out of the room, and then stopped, turning around just as the door closed.

"Who's Dean Winchester?!"

He got no reply.


	3. Chapter 3

Sarah stepped off the train at Union Station and looked around. It had been a few years since she'd been to DC but it wasn't a city that ever changed very much. Union Station looked just as it always had.

This time was different though. This time, she was here with Chuck, and she was here for a wedding.

Sort of. It wasn't a real wedding, but her sister would be pulling on a big fluffy white gown and saying "I Do" to Sarah's former partner and ex-boyfriend.

She wasn't sure how she should feel about all of it, but mostly the whole situation made her laugh. It was all so incredibly ridiculous.

There were less amusing aspects to all of this, however. While she'd told Chuck nearly everything he wanted to know about her life before Burbank and even before the CIA, there were a few omissions.

Like the aforementioned sister, not to mention the two brothers that had always been around.

They weren't blood related to her, of course, but between being dragged to Ellen and Bill Harvelle's Roadhouse in Nebraska, and the Winchester boys always showing up at the house in South Dakota, the quartet had learned to stick together.

Dean, Sarah, Sam and Jo.

It wasn't like that anymore of course. It hadn't been for years. Sarah joined the CIA, Sam went to college. Jo stayed stuck in Nebraska for years, wanting to be a hunter like her father had been, and Dean trained at the knee of his own father, becoming incredibly good at the job, and after that...

After that there was the Apocalypse. Another detail she'd decided not to tell Chuck. But that was before all this. After telling him about her siblings, Sarah couldn't very well go on a mission with him involving her family without telling him that one of their number had died.

Sam was dead, two years now. In that time, the Apocalypse had ended, and Jo joined the NSA; Dean found a girl to settle down with and worked on cars for UNIT. So she'd heard at least. She kept tabs on Dean, but they hadn't spoken in a long time

Chuck took her hand then, while his other clutched their two bags. The CIA was shipping the rest of their things to the hotel in a couple of days, since they'd be staying for the month. While they both worked for SHIELD and Stark Industries these days, the CIA still had first dibs when they needed them.

"So, what do you wanna do first?" Chuck asked as they walked through Union Station proper, filled with shops and restaurants. He stopped to look at a large directory and Sarah spotted the comic book shop on the list before Chuck did.

She tugged on his hand and pulled him along. "We need to get to the hotel and set up. We're here on a mission."

"But...y'know," Chuck said. "Kind of a fun mission. A wedding mission, that's...fun."

"It's work, Chuck." She smiled at him.

"Yeah, but Bryce and Jo aren't gonna need us every second of every day," he pointed out. "We could sneak off...DC's got some amazing restaurants and museums. Have you ever been to any of the Smithsonians? Because I haven't, and I'm kind of dying to check out Air and Space. And possibly the Udvar-Hazy Center."

"It does sound like fun," Sarah said hesitantly. "And there are a whole bunch of amazing art galleries..."

"See?" Chuck grinned. "You, me. Museums...a couple of romantic dinners..."

She shook out her head. "It But I think Jo and Bryce are going to need us more than you think."

Chuck frowned. "Bryce is a pro, he's fine. And Jo's good, right?"

"Actually, it turns out that they hate each other a little."

"Oh," Chuck said softly. "Yeah. Bryce...he can have that effect on people sometimes."

Sarah turned to Chuck, taking her bag from him, lightening his load to just one. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"How did you put up with him in college?"

He frowned and then gave a soft guffaw. "How did you put up with him as a partner? And...a boyfriend?"

Sarah opened her mouth and then closed it, lifting her head. "I asked you first."

Chuck shook his head. "He wasn't like he is now, when we were in college. He didn't think he was James Bond. He thought he was Bryce. He...y'know. He played video games and drank too much and we played pranks on the other guys in our frat and he ate fried chicken by the bucket. It's his favorite food, you know."

"No, it's not."

Chuck blinked. "Yeah. Yes, it is."

Sarah laughed a little. "His favorite food if beef bourguignon."

"No," Chuck said slowly. "No, baby, I'm sorry. Bryce lied. It's fried chicken."

She blinked, silent for a moment and then burst into a full laugh, resting her head on Chuck's shoulder.

He smiled and kissed the top of her head. After a moment they started walking again.

"He really told you his favorite food was beef bourguignon?"

"He did."

"Excuse my French, but he is so full of shit."

Sarah sighed as they stepped out into the sunlight. It was late September and the air was crisp. People rushed past them toward an army of taxis waiting to take travelers to where they needed to be.

"That's probably why Jo doesn't like him," Sarah commented as they stepped up to a burgundy cab. "If he'd just act...I don't know. Like a real person, she'd find it easier to work with him."

"The Dupont Circle Hotel, please," Chuck said as the driver took their bags and he opened up the back door for Sarah. "Y'know," he said as he got in next to her. "Bryce only turns that act up when he feels threatened."

"I do know," Sarah replied, taking his hand again. "And Jo is nothing if not threatening."

"That's actually really good to know for when I meet her," Chuck said absently.

Sarah's eyes widened. "Oh my god I can't believe I forgot! You're going to be meeting Jo for the first time!"

"Hey, it's no big deal," Chuck said with a grin. "Remember when you met my sister?"

Sarah quirked an eyebrow. "We were undercover and you set my soufflé on fire and then put it out in the shower."

"Right," Chuck said slowly. "Yeah. Okay, that was a bad example."

"Uh-huh."

"Sarah, I love you, and she loves you," Chuck said. "We have that in common, right?"

He was right, and Sarah knew it. She relaxed a little, resting her head on his arm.

* * *

"So Chuck and Sarah are getting in today," Bryce said as he poured himself some coffee. "Tomorrow we have to start planning this thing."

Jo tilted her head as she watched him doctor his coffee from the breakfast bar. "I thought the CIA was planning it."

"We get input," Bryce replied. "It's our wedding, after all."

She grinned a little. "No it's not."

"Our fake wedding," Bryce amended. "Fine. You don't want any say in it? What you wear? What we eat? Flowers?"

"I don't care," Jo shrugged. "It ain't real. We're doin' it to lure James out."

"It'll work, too," Bryce said. "The guy's got it in for me."

"What'd you do?"

Bryce shrugged. "He had a pipe bomb at O'Hare. I chased him, caught him...broke both his arms...his nose...I think he lost a couple teeth..."

Jo gave a low whistle. "For a pretty boy you sure can be vicious."

"I'd been chasing the guy for a month," Bryce told her. "And he'd tried to blow me up before."

"I woulda done worse'n broke his arms and nose and teeth," Jo muttered.

Bryce grinned a little and leaned over the bar. "So. What else do I need to know about you, Agent Harvelle?"

"I take my coffee black," she told him. "Unlike you. How much sugar'd you put in there?"

"Enough to keep me awake for a couple days," he told her. "I like my sugar."

Jo took another sip of coffee. "Lord help me."

"I'm not that bad."

"Uh-huh."

Bryce rolled his eyes and sipped his own, but froze dead as his phone began to play a certain piano concerto.

Jo snorted softly. "The hell is that?"

"Edvard Grieg," Bryce groaned and snatched up his phone. "Hello, Mother."

Jo tilted her head as she watched Bryce get to his feet and hop up the stairs. She could hear yelling from the other end of the phone.

* * *

"A wedding?!"

Bryce slowly sat down on the bed in his room, his back straight, and his chin up, as if his mother were actually there in the room with him, instead of sitting in her home in Hartford, Connecticut. "Yes, mother."

"Why on earth would you-"

"It's for work, Mother," Bryce said evenly. "And you don't have any obligation to come. You were sent an invitation for authenticity's sa-"

"Oh, I see," she drawled out. "So I'm not really invited."

Bryce sighed heavily. "You are. And you're welcome to come, but it's not-"

"Well, I might as well. I may never get a chance to see you get married ever again."

He closed his eyes. It both relieved him and made him a little sad that he knew Emily Gilmore so well that he could predict her every stinging word. "That's fine. Then you can come."

"Oh, I can come, how nice of you to say," she said sarcastically. "May I pick out my own ensemble for the event or will I need to run that by you as well?"

"Mother-"

"While we're on the subject, who on earth is planning this sham?"

"My employers," Bryce said.

"Why do you keep saying that?" Emily asked. "I know who you work for."

"We're on the phone," Bryce reminded her harshly. "And you're using a landline, and they are easier to tap than cells. My employers are planning the wedding."

"Yes, and I'm sure they'll throw the cheapest, plainest-"

Bryce closed his eyes, and suddenly found himself agreeing with Jo. Did this wedding really matter? In the long run, it was fake, and they wouldn't even make it to any sort of reception.

"It doesn't much matter," he muttered.

"What?!" Emily cried. "Of course it matters! You're getting married!"

"It's not-"

"Well, obviously you and this Joanna girl can't be trusted to handle things yourself if you're just going to let the C-" she stopped and huffed. "If you're just going to let someone else plan it. If anyone is going to plan it, it will be me."

"Mother, you really don't have to-"

"I'll be down in DC in a couple of days," she told him. "I'll take the train down, and we'll get everything sorted out. It won't be easy, since we only have a month, but I can make it work. There's a wonderful florist just off Connecticut Avenue. What is this Joanna's favorite flower?"

Bryce froze. "I have no idea."

"You're marrying her and you don't know her favorite flower?"

"Mother, we're not really-"

"Find out before I get into town, would you please? And pick out a color scheme."

"But-"

"I'll see you Friday morning, Bryce. I'll be at Union Station at Ten AM sharp."

Bryce bit his lip and closed his eyes. "Yes, Mother."

"Goodbye, Bryce."

"Goodbye, Mother."

* * *

Down in the kitchen, Jo's phone rang, and she snapped it up, taking a sip of her coffee as she looked at the caller ID. The name "Bobby" popped up with his phone number and she pressed the little green button to receive the call.

"Hey, Bobby."

"So, marriage, huh?"

Jo grinned. "It's just a job, Bobby."

"Uh-huh," he said, his voice sarcastic and unimpressed. "Who's Allan Harvelle?"

She wrinkled her nose. "No clue."

"Well, the invite says 'Mr. and Mrs. Richard Larkin and Mr. Allan Harvelle cordially invite you-'"

It clicked and Jo grinned. "Ooh. That's my uncle."

"I'm your uncle."

"Well, yeah, but this is my uncle on the job," Jo told him, knowing it was okay to speak freely. Bobby's phone lines were all locked down. "It's no big deal, Bobby. We'll have a wedding, and take out a terrorist."

Bobby chuckled. "You want me to be there?"

"You can come if you want," Jo told him. "Sare's already here with her boy toy."

"Ooh. Chuck. Yeah I met him about a year ago," Bobby said. "Nice kid. Computer geek bigger'n Sammy ever was."

Jo quirked an eyebrow and sat back in her chair. "Yeah? Sarah's got herself a nerd?"

"He's a good kid," Bobby said sternly. "Go easy on him, he's been through a lot."

"What do you mean?"

Bobby snorted. "Like I'm gonna tell you. You go have girl talk with your sister, an' she'll fill you in, I ain't gettin' in the middle of that."

Jo grinned. "Fine. How long's it been since you've seen Sarah, anyways."

"A while."

"You should come. NSA and CIA are footin' the bill for all this, including fancy hotel rooms."

"Nah," Bobby said. "You got enough problems comin' your way, you don't need me wanderin' around."

Jo bit her lip. "Heard from Dean? He got invited, too..."

Bobby sighed heavily. "Not recently. He lived with that girl of his in England for a little while, an' then headed to Louisiana for a little, but I think they're both back in Kansas now."

"I should call," Jo said quietly, tapping a finger on the countertop.

"Might not be a bad idea," Bobby told her. "Cas says he's been a little unhinged."

"This is Dean we're talking about," Jo snorted. "he's always a little unhinged."

She could almost hear Bobby roll his eyes over the phone. "Call your damn brother, ya idjit."

"Yeah."

Bryce hopped down the stairs then, and Jo glanced up at him before turning her attention back to the phone.

"You sure you don't wanna come?"

"I'll think about it," Bobby told her. "Behave."

"If I have to."

"Bye, Jo."

She hung up and turned to Bryce. "So. How was-"

She stopped and turned toward the front door as a heavy fist pounded on it.

Bryce sighed. "It's like Grand Central Station today," he muttered, as he swung open the door. He looked up at the taller, beefier, older man on the other side of the threshold and grinned a little. "Casey."

"Larkin."

Colonel Casey pushed past him, carrying a bag of supplies. "Gonna be staying with you two lovebirds."

Bryce blinked. "No. No, that's not right. There's only two bedrooms."

Casey settled himself on the couch pulling a laptop from his bag. "Gotta make you two look like a real couple. Especially if you're being watched. Have you two even been covering your tracks in terms of coupledom at all?"

"We're bein' watched?" Jo asked, walking over.

"Thought I taught you better than that," Casey grumbled, turning the laptop on to show a map of the perimeter around the row house. "You're always being watched, Cameron could be anywhere. Get with it, Agents."

"We're doing the best we can," Bryce grumbled, leaning against the closed front door.

Casey shook his head. "Jo, I expected to be a little green. She hasn't been doin' this for too long, but you, Mr. All-Star Spook, I expected to be more practiced. What, too many late night Halo dates with your boyfriend?"

"I do not talk to Chuck that often," Bryce groused.

"Phone records say otherwise," Casey commented. He pointed to the screen, mostly addressing Jo. "So you've got possible watchers here, here, and here. Any one of them could be Cameron or his goons. He's been recruiting, so you're gonna have to be careful."

"You've been tapping my phone?" Bryce snapped.

"Not the point," Casey said. "Cameron is after you, Larkin, and by extension he's after Harvelle here. And for some reason, you're not playing along with the whole happy couple thing."

"You think I'm bad, you should watch her," Bryce grumbled.

Jo shrugged. "What can I say? I ain't the marryin' type."

"Well you better change your tune on that," Casey told her. "We're having dinner with Walker and Bartowski tonight, and I want you kids to be real sappy."

"Do you?" Bryce teased. "Do you really?"

Casey grunted.

"By the way," Bryce said lightly, turning his attention to Jo. "My mother is arriving on Friday, and I cannot wait for you to meet her. I think she already hates you."

"Well, don't that just make me the luckiest bride to be," Jo laughed.

Casey's attention had turned back to the computer and he held up a hand to quiet them. "We've got company."

Jo blinked and looked at the screen; a red dot had appeared behind the row house. She stepped over Casey and pulled a small pistol out from a case hidden inside the couch cushion.

Bryce's eyes widened. "We've been here for less than two days. When did you have time to-"

She headed for the back door that led into the small alleyway behind the house without answering his question and Casey gave Bryce a smug grin.

"I don't know why Beckman thinks you're so good."

Bryce glowered, and pulled open the hall closet door, pulling his own piece from the top shelf. "Shut up, and cover her, I know you're already armed."

"I'm just that predictable."

They followed Jo slowly. Bryce watched her step out into the alley and look around, gun raised.

"Shoulda brought the shotgun," she muttered as she stepped closer to a dumpster against the wall of an opposite building.

Bryce followed at the ready and Casey was only a few steps behind him.

"If that's a rat in there, I'ma be pissed," Jo muttered as she uncocked her weapon. "C'mon outta there."

For a long moment, nothing happened.

"I don't care who you are," Jo said, raising her voice a little. "I will shoot you."

Bryce frowned and gave her a confused look. "Is that wise?"

Then, from behind the dumpster stepped a dark haired man in a trench coat and a rumpled suit. He gazed at them quizzically with his bright blue eyes and tilted his head, obviously a little confused.

Jo groaned and lowered her weapon. "Dammit, Cas!"

Bryce blinked and grinned just a little. "Whatever happened to 'I don't care who you are, I will shoot you'?"

"Put a sock in it, Larkin," Jo groused.

"Who the hell is this, Harvelle?" Casey asked, his weapon still at the ready.

She sighed. "Casey, Bryce, this is Castiel. Cas, this is Casey and this is Bryce."

"The man you are marrying," Castiel said slowly, looking Bryce up and down judgmentally.

Jo almost said no; almost told him that it wasn't real, but they were out in the open. Anyone could be watching; anyone could be listening.

"Yeah. Yeah. Bryce 'n me...yeah."

"He is short," Castiel said. "But symmetrical."

Casey wrinkled his nose, obviously a little disgusted and grunted.

"Dean wanted me to come," Castiel said. "He wanted me to see what was going on."

"Dumb bastard can't just pick up a phone, huh?" Jo muttered. "Brothers. Go figure."

"What shall I tell him?" Castiel asked.

"To pick up the damn phone and call me," Jo snapped. "Or better yet, come here himself instead of sendin' you like some damn errand boy."

Castiel nodded, and with a flutter of what sounded like enormous wings, was gone.

Casey and Bryce stood stunned.

"What the..."

"Did he just..."

"Jo..."

"What the hell was that?"

"That was Castiel," Jo sighed as she headed for the back door. "Angel of the lord. He was here on my big brother's behalf, though lord only knows why he agreed to it."

"Excuse me...Angel of the lord?" Bryce asked, dashing after her.

"You believe in demons, don't you?" Jo grumbled, as she stepped inside.

"Been possessed a time or two," Bryce told her.

"Course you have."

"So...there's demons...and angels."

"Yep."

"Great," Casey grunted. "Another report I gotta write about up about different life forms for the NSA."


	4. Chapter 4

Sarah straightened out Chuck's tie as they waited for the rest of their party to arrive.

"So it's us, Jo and Bryce, and Casey?" Chuck asked. "How many times has Casey shot Bryce now?"

"A lot," Sarah replied with a little grin. She had to admit, she really enjoyed being undercover with Chuck while they were actually dating instead of only pretending to be a couple. "It'll be fine. They'll all behave."

"We hope," Chuck grinned. "At least the two of us will."

"Really? Totally over your Bryce angst?" Sarah asked.

"Completely," Chuck nodded. "Nothing gets you over a grudge like a twelve-hour game of Halo."

"Interesting methods, Agent Bartowski," she grinned.

"Why thank you, Agent Walker," he smiled. "I pride myself on my inventiveness."

She laughed just a little and tugged him into a kiss by his tie.

"Well, well, what do we have here?"

At the sound of her sister's voice, Sarah pulled away and turned to find Jo standing behind her, flanked by Casey, whose face held his customary "that is just disgusting" look that he reserved just for Sarah and Chuck. Behind Casey was Bryce, shoulders slightly slumped, the wind obviously taken out of his sails.

Sarah couldn't help herself. She threw her arms around her younger sister in a hug. "I can't believe how long it's been!"

"You're tellin' me!" Jo laughed, hugging her in return. "You look great!"

Sarah pulled back and beamed at her. "I am pretty great."

Jo smiled and playfully tugged on a lock of Sarah's hair. They both giggled.

Chuck cleared his throat softly. "Hi. Hey. Hi. I'm Chuck."

Jo quirked an eyebrow and pulled away from her older sister. She looked Chuck up and down critically before turning back to Sarah. "He's tall."

"Yes, he is."

"He's like Sammy tall."

Sarah sighed. "I know he is. But he's much thinner."

"That's true," Jo nodded. "I'm Jo."

"It's really nice to meet you," Chuck said, sincerity evident in his voice. "Like...really nice to meet you. I...I haven't really gotten to meet much of Sarah's family."

"Ain't many of us left," Jo pointed out. "But I get your meaning. Good to meet you too."

Oddly, Jo felt an understanding with this goofy, tall man instantly. They both cared deeply for Sarah; both wanted what was best for her, and to keep her safe.

Jo nodded slowly. "Okay, Chuck. You get a pass. You don't get hazed. At least not by me. We'll see when Dean gets here."

"Do we know if he's coming yet?" Sarah asked, worry in her voice.

"Well, Cas showed up earlier today cause Dean asked him to check things out," Jo said, with a soft snort. "So yeah, probably."

Sarah's eyes nearly fell out of her head. "He sent Castiel to do his dirty work?"

"Yep."

"Ugh. Remind me to kick him in his stupid face when he gets here," Sarah said.

Jo nodded. "Noted."

Casey cleared his throat and Jo huffed.

"And uh..." She reached back, snatching Bryce by the sleeve and tugging him forward. "This here's my fiancé, Bryce."

Chuck grinned and reached forward for a hug. "Hey, buddy."

Bryce hugged him back, patting his back. "Hi. Can you please kill me?"

"Nope! Not in my nature."

"Of course it's not," Bryce grumbled as he pulled back.

"It can't be that bad," Chuck said. "Jo seems...lively."

"That's one way to put it."

Chuck frowned. "Did you really tell her, and, by extension, Sarah, that your favorite food was beuf bourguignon?"

Bryce frowned right back. "It is."

"Uh...no."

"What? You think I don't know what my own favorite food is?"

"I think you've forgotten the extreme reaction you have to the taste of fried chicken."

Bryce shut his mouth and stared.

"Uh-huh. Bryce and fried chicken go together like...something that tastes amazing and the person who's tasting the amazing thing," Chuck said. "What's with you?"

"Nothing," Bryce said, looking away.

"Nope. Not buyin' it. It's not nothing."

"Chuck..."

"It's not nothing," Chuck countered. "If it were nothing you would have told the truth."

"Fine, okay?" Bryce snapped quietly as the others walked into the restaurant. "I told them that to make myself seem more classy."

Chuck snorted out a laugh.

"Stop."

"I'm...I'm sorry. I am, I just..." Chuck grinned at him.

"Stop!"

"Come on, buddy," Chuck said, laughter still tingeing his voice. "Let's see if they've got some fried chicken here."

"Sure you won't kill me?"

"Yep."

"Damn."

* * *

Chuck and Sarah sat next to each other, with Bryce and Jo on the other side of the table, and Casey at the head. It was a dimly lit place with soft music and a wait staff who seemed Too Good To Be There.

The menu, Jo noticed, was filled with small plates, mostly of things she'd never eaten before, and hadn't really ever intended to, but there was a first time for everything.

"So," Sarah said pleasantly, if a little awkwardly. "Jo, you and Bryce have been together quite a while."

"Yep," Jo replied, somewhat bored. "Long while now."

"Well, we're so glad you two crazy kids are finally making it official," Chuck grinned.

"Long time coming," Casey agreed.

Chuck lifted his glass of tonic water. "To Bryce and Jo. May the wedding planning go as smoothly as the marriage undoubtedly will."

"Here, here," Casey said, lifting his glass of wine, a mocking grin on his face.

"You're enjoying this a little too much," Sarah muttered to him.

"Yeah, well, simple pleasures," Casey replied, taking a sip of his wine.

"So!" Bryce said with a wide grin. "Chuck. Sarah. When can we expect the two of you to tie the knot?"

Sarah's eyes widened, her own wine glass frozen against her lips.

Jo tilted her head. "Ain't you two been together for a while?"

"Well there was a year or so where we weren't together," Sarah said quickly. "So...so that doesn't..."

"It still counts," Chuck said quietly.

"It does?" Sarah asked.

"It does for me," Chuck said softly.

Sarah took a deep breath. "I'm going to go use the restroom."

Chuck watched her get to her feet and walk off. He frowned and sighed heavily. "We're living together," he said quietly. "You'd think she woulda thought about it at some point..."

Jo got up then. "I gotta use the can, too."

Bryce shook his head and watched her walk off. "So refined. So elegant."

* * *

Jo stepped into the bathroom to find her sister standing at the sink, staring at her reflection.

"Sis?"

"He wants to marry me, you know. He didn't say it, but I can tell."

"No shit, he wants to marry you," Jo said gently, standing behind her. "I coulda told you that when we walked up and found you two kissin."

Sarah took a deep breath and turned to her. "Really?"

"Yep," Jo nodded. "He's head over heels for you."

"I know he is," Sarah said. "But me? Married? To anybody?"

"And why not?"

"Because...because I'm me. I'm..."

"Bad-ass agent Sarah Walker?" Jo grinned. "The girl who usedta moon over those old romance movies? I think I can see it."

Sarah sighed heavily. "It's been a long time since I've been that girl."

"Not that long," Jo said. "Not all that long."

* * *

Casey had stepped out to make a phone call and left Chuck and Bryce to get the verbal spar he knew they were holding in over with.

"You deserved it you know," Bryce told him. "Making such a big deal out of me and Jo, you totally deserved it."

"Okay, Bryce," Chuck said, obviously not amused. "Fine. I deserved it. You keep on thinking that."

"You did."

Chuck rolled his eyes a little. "You know, it's not my fault you wound up on this assignment, and it's not my fault that you're unhappy."

"Of course I'm unhappy!" Bryce hissed quietly. "Do you know how frigid that woman is?"

"I'm not talking about being unhappy about the mission," Chuck said softly. "I'm talking about in general. You're unhappy."

"That's ridiculous," Bryce grumbled. "Even if I was, how would you know?"

"Because whether you like to admit it or not, I know you," Chuck said. "Better than Sarah. Better than probably almost everyone in your life. I know you."

"Please," Bryce scoffed. "You don't know anything about me anymore."

"You really think so?" Chuck challenged him, his voice getting slightly higher. "Okay. Fine. Your favorite food is, wait for it, still fried chicken."

"Fine. So what?"

"You will actively make yourself sick off of Red Vines if it means you can finish the box," Chuck went on.

Bryce scowled. "Fine. Yeah."

"Your favorite color matches your eyes," Chuck grinned widely. "Except..."

"Except what?" Jo asked as she sat down.

Bryce's eyes widened and he shook his head at Chuck frantically.

Chuck grinned even wider, turning to Jo and Sarah who had always come back. "Except that's not his real eye color."

Sarah blinked at her boyfriend and then at Bryce.

Jo snorted. "Please. Like that's a shock."

"Bryce's eyes are grey," Chuck told them. "Not the inhumanly blue shade of his contact lenses."

The last two words were over pronounced, and they felt a little like a stab in Bryce's back.

"You suck so much," Bryce snapped.

"Blame the Laudenol, buddy," Chuck said lightly. "It turned me mean."

"It really did," Bryce agreed. "And if we weren't in public right now? I would kick your ass so hard."

"Really?" Chuck asked, bewildered. "You're that mad at me for revealing your secret? A secret which is neither deep, nor dark? Come on, Bryce. You look better without the contacts anyways."

Bryce grumbled as the waiter walked up. "Good evening. Can I take your order?"

"Casey ain't back yet," Jo pointed out. "Where'd he go?"

"Phone call," Chuck said.

Sarah got to her feet. "I'll get him."

"Hurry back so Chuck can surprise propose to you," Bryce said.

"The only reason I will be hurrying back is to wipe the floor with your face," Sarah replied lightly, before walking off.

"Not gonna let it go, huh?" Chuck asked.

Bryce gave him a shit-eating grin. "Nope."

"The hell is wrong with you two tonight?" Jo asked.

"Bryce is cranky and taking it out on me," Chuck replied lightly. "This is nothing new. It used to happen all the time."

Jo grinned slowly and turned to Chuck. "So...Chuck. You knew Bryce back in the day."

"I did," Chuck nodded. "We lived together in college. We shared everything."

"Not everything," Bryce grumbled.

Chuck grinned, and it was a little sad. "Yeah. Everything."

Bryce glanced at him and then back down at his plate.

"What was he like back then?" Jo asked, sipping her beer.

Chuck took a deep breath, still looking at his friend. "Different." He looked at his phone and frowned. "You know, they should have been back by-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Casey flew through the front window of the restaurant and across the table of a couple sharing dessert.

Jo, Bryce and Chuck were on their feet in an instant, climbing through the crowded bar area to get to Casey.

"What happened?!" Jo cried.

"Where's Sarah?!" Chuck snapped. He looked through the broken window to find Sarah with a scrawny-looking man in a full nelson.

"Where is he?!" she snapped at him.

Chuck narrowed his eyes and watched as the man began foaming at the mouth. His eyes rolled back and a moment later he went limp in Sarah's arms.

"Shit," Jo snapped. "Cyanide pill."

"Cameron means business this time around," Bryce said quietly. "We should go."

"Yeah," Chuck said. "Yeah that's a good idea." He stepped over the broken glass and helped Casey to his feet. "Doin' okay, Colonel?"

"Fine," he said, though he was clearly in a daze. "Let's get the hell outta here."

Chuck nodded, and led the way.

Back at the house, Jo handed Casey some ice for his head. "I thought this was supposed to be easy. Now he's got kids takin' cyanide pills?"

"He's out for blood this time," Bryce said as he set the pizzas they'd ordered down on the coffee table.

He'd talked to the police before they left; called the NSA to come and do a clean-up job on the body and the bar.

"It's almost like he's started some sort of cult," Sarah said, taking a slice of pizza for herself.

"That's just what we need, a terrorist with a cult following," Casey grumbled.

"At least we know this is working," Chuck pointed out. "The more public you guys are, the more chances we have of drawing him out."

"So what's the next step?" Jo asked.

"Wedding planning," Casey told her. "Run up a charge bill, go to every designer big name wedding vendor in the area."

"That shouldn't be hard with my mother coming to town," Bryce said.

Chuck's eyes widened. "Your mother is coming to town?"

Bryce nodded. "Yep. Friday."

"Ha!" Chuck laughed nervously. "Haha. That's...that's so awesome. That's so...so awesome!"

Sarah frowned. "What's wrong?"

"My mother and Chuck have a history," Bryce grinned. "She walked in on him in the shower in sophomore year when he came home with me for Spring Break."

Jo snorted out a laugh.

"It's not funny," Chuck pouted. "It's awkward. Really, really awkward."

"'Bryce,'" Bryce said, his voice high and nasally, imitating his mother. "'Your tall friend should learn to lock the bathroom door behind him!'"

Sarah couldn't help laughing.

"That's not that funny," Chuck grumbled.

"It's pretty funny to me," Casey smirked.

"About as funny as Bryce's contact lenses," Chuck muttered.

Casey grunted quizzically and turned to Bryce. "Contact lenses?"

"Hating you more," Bryce said through gritted teeth.

"Bryce wears contacts," Jo said to Casey. "His eyes are gray."

"Shoulda known the eyes were fake," Casey said. "Most everything else about you is."

Bryce rolled his eyes and got to his feet. "I'm getting a beer. And I'm not offering to get one for any of you people because you're consistently mean to me."

"You deserve it!" Jo called after him as he left the room.

"You're really hard on him, huh?" Sarah asked her.

"You act like you don't got any feelings, you get trampled on as such," Jo told her. "He got all mad the night we met cause I didn't throw myself at him right after meeting him."

Sarah sighed. "Just get through the job and it'll all be over."

"Yep," Jo nodded. "Twenty-nine days to go."

"Hey, maybe you could come visit us in New York after you're done," Sarah offered. "I'd take a week off, we could wander around the city."

Jo grinned. "Sounds fun. If they don't wind up shippin' me off right away, I might take you up on that. A vacation would be nice."

"Tell me about it," Sarah said. "I thought SHIELD would be easier than the CIA, but they work you like a dog, and I don't even want to talk about Chuck's hours."

"Bad, huh?"

"He works with Tony Stark," Sarah said. "Two hypergeniuses who are constantly on a caffeine high with only a man who's terrified of getting angry to supervise them."

Jo laughed a little. "Christ. That sounds like a mess."

"Every other day there's an announcement over the loudspeaker saying there's been a fire or an explosion in their lab," Sarah said, laughing along. "I keep worrying my boyfriend's been blown up!"

Chuck grinned sheepishly at them. "We're actually pretty careful...about 92% of all the explosions are controlled."

"And they just rely on luck for the rest," Sarah said. "You're going to lose an arm."

"Nope!" Chuck said. "I'm too paranoid. If anybody's gonna lose a limb, it's Tony. You look in the dictionary at the word reckless and there's his picture, right there."

"And he's a terrible influence," Sarah said.

"He's a moron with more money than sense," Casey told them. "You watch out, Bartowski. That guy'll get you killed."

"Don't be so hard on him," Chuck, taking a slice of pizza. "He's a nice guy, most days. He's just...y'know. An eccentric billionaire."

"That's what they said about Bruce Wayne," Casey grumbled. "Turns out he's been funding a maniac dressed like a bat for two decades."

Chuck opened his mouth and then closed it.

"What?" Casey snapped.

"Nothing," Chuck said quickly. "Nope. Nothing."

He gave a menacing grunt. "What, Bartowski?"

"BruceWayneisBatman," Chuck said quickly.

The group went silent, staring at him.

"It's in the Intersect!" Chuck cried. "He was in a newspaper I was reading once and I flashed!"

"Suddenly, life makes way more sense," Bryce commented, sitting back down with his beer.

"It came in handy when we were in Nanda Parbot that one time," Chuck said.

"When the hell were you in Nanda Parbot?!" Casey cried.

"When I worked for UNIT. We were tracking the League of Assassins. It was a thing."

"This trip just keeps getting better and better," Casey grumbled. "That's at least two more reports I gotta write up for the NSA."

"If it's in the Intersect, don't they already know?" Sarah asked.

"No, it might mean the CIA knows," Casey said. "They didn't actually share all their information before putting it into the Insect. Idiots."

"I'll say," Bryce said.

"We're gettin' way off topic," Jo said. "Cameron? Remember? He had some poor kid brainwashed enough to kill himself tonight."

"We've gotta find out where he's hiding," Bryce agreed. "Maybe we can take him out before the wedding."

"That'd be a dream come true," Jo said. "Best wedding gift I ever coulda asked for."

"Then we pool information," Chuck said. "What do we know about Cameron? What are his patterns? If he's in town, where is he likely to stay? Friends in town? If not, who's he imposing on. Who are his targets in terms of flunkies?"

Casey nodded. "Let's get to work, people."

* * *

It was late when they broke up for the night, and while getting Chuck and Sarah out the door hadn't been too hard, convincing Casey that he couldn't stay in the row house with them was challenging.

"You have a guestroom," Casey pointed out.

"Yeah, it's in use," Bryce snapped. "Now leave."

Casey grunted and shook his head. "See you kids later."

Jo watched him leave and then flopped down on the couch, looking at the web of information they'd worked so hard to put together that sat on the coffee table.

"Cameron really has it out for you," Jo pointed. "You sure it's just that you kicked his ass?"

Bryce was in the kitchen, putting away the leftover pizza. "He's nuts, what can I say?"

"That can't be all there is to it," Jo muttered, looking at the facts laid out before her. "Born in Kansas, with sociopathic tendencies and parents who worshiped the hell out of him to the point where he thinks he's a god, sent from above to reign down vengeance on the wicked...'cept who he thinks is wicked ain't exactly that way."

"And even if they were, it's not up to him to be judge jury and executioner," Bryce said. "So he goes on a killing spree first, and he doesn't get caught. He amps it up and blows up an office building. He gets flagged by the NSA and the FBI, not to mention the local police in Texas where it happened."

"And then he flees the country," Jo added. "But not before you kick the everloving hell out of him."

"He had it coming."

"I ain't sayin' he didn't," Jo told him. "But you didn't catch him."

"No," Bryce groused. "No, I didn't."

"Well, you will," Jo said. "We will."

Bryce looked at her and took a deep breath. "Yeah. We will."

* * *

Sarah stretched as she made her way from the door of their hotel room to the bed, and then flopped down, somehow remaining elegant.

Chuck pulled his sport coat off and hung it on the back of the desk chair before tugging his already loosened tie off.

She watched him in the mirror that sat in front of the desk, noticing his slumped shoulders and averted eyes that didn't meet hers, the thin frown his lips formed.

She knew him well enough that these signs meant either a: he was really tired or b: he was unhappy.

Sarah was willing to take a wild bet that it was both.

"What's wrong?" she asked quietly.

"Huh?" He looked at her finally, brown eyes a little wider. "Uh...no. No nothing's wrong."

"You've gotten better at lying over the last few years," Sarah said with a rueful grin. "But you're still not that good."

Chuck turned to her and leaned against the desk, crossing his arms.

Even though they'd been living together for some time...even though they'd been...together...for a long while now, it still snuck up on Sarah just how much he'd changed.

Gone was the squeaky, scared nerd, replaced by the confident, muscular spy before her. A nerdy spy, of course, and he was still Chuck. He was just...different.

And she liked it. She liked his confidence and his competence.

It had come at a price. While she had been undercover, he'd been taken prisoner and drugged and made to do things even she as a seasoned agent had trouble stomaching the thought of.

After everything that happened, they'd moved to New York together, to work for SHIELD and Stark Industries. Chuck spent his days in their lab with Tony himself, along with people like Bruce Banner, though Chuck was brought in on missions when they felt they needed an extra set of hands. Sarah worked as an agent, with the likes of Nick Fury, Maria Hill and Phil Coulson.

It was a good life they had together. They worked hard and then came home to each other. Some days they got to have lunch together, and some days Chuck would send gardenias to her desk, or chocolates, or just little notes with silly, romantic things on them.

But when Chuck was serious, he was very, very serious, which still felt new for Sarah, despite all their time together. It still felt so different. There were days when they first met that she had a hard time getting him to really be serious about their dangerous lives.

"I know that Bryce dropping the whole...'when do you think you guys will get married' thing on us was low," Chuck said softly.

She shifted. She should have seen this coming. "It was."

He nodded and walked over to her, sitting down slowly next to her. He looked at her, sincerely, adoringly.

Yep. Still Chuck.

He grinned just a little. "You know...you know that I've wanted to marry you since our first date, right?"

Sarah pursed her lips. "Which first date?"

He laughed softly. "Our first-first date. The one with the Mexican food, the sexy dancing and the car chase."

She took a deep breath and looked at him.

"You said you fell in love with me between fixing your phone and defusing a bomb with a porn virus, well...I figured out pretty quick I wanted to marry you," he told her quietly. "So...I guess Bryce being a jerk about it didn't phase me very much. At least not like it phased you."

Sarah blew out a breath. "I just...I guess I hadn't though about getting married. I mean, we've been busy. Moving to New York, and the new jobs and you took some more time to really recover after what happened..."

"I learned a lot, you know," Chuck said. "When we were apart. I learned a lot. I learned that I shouldn't put my life on hold."

"So, what are you saying, that you want to get married now?" Sarah asked.

"No."

"Then what are you saying, Chuck?"

He leaned back. "I'm saying I don't want to wait five more years. I don't want to wake up and realize we haven't moved forward. I'm saying...don't be shocked in a few months if I take you on the most amazing, romantic date of your entire life and then fish a ring box from my pocket."

She tilted her head at him. "You're serious about this."

"Yes I am," Chuck said. "I am."

Sarah grinned a little. "You know, Casey would say something about your biological clock ticking..."

"You're right, he would," Chuck grinned. "Except that I'm not looking to marry just anybody. I'm looking to marry you."

She sat silently for a long moment before reaching out and taking his hand.

He grinned at her and then kissed her cheek. "It's late. And we only have one more day before Bryce's mom gets into town, and then we're all in trouble."

"His mother is really that bad?"

Chuck smiled wistfully. "The worst."

"No."

"Yeah," he told her. "Yeah, she is. She's got a lot of money to throw around and she's very take-charge, and if things don't go her way, she will make everybody miserable, and she's very, very good at it."

"No wonder Bryce doesn't talk about his family very often," Sarah muttered.

"They're good people," Chuck mused. "They just have more money than sense sometimes, and they produced kids who don't share that trait so things get a little tense."

"Kids? Bryce has a sibling?"

"A sister," Chuck said, getting to his feet and starting to change for bed. "Older by about thirteen years."

"That's one hell of an age gap," Sarah commented.

"Yeah, but they get along really well," Chuck shrugged. "Like I said, the two of them don't share that whole 'more money than sense' thing..."

"But he's still Bryce," Sarah grinned, laying back for a nice long stretch.

"Yes," Chuck said, watching her. "Yes he is. I mean, when he's in the field, he is...when he...when he's not working, he'll revert back to the way he used to be. You know like back when we were in college, he was different."

"So were you," Sarah pointed out.

Chuck nodded. "Yeah. I was pretty different. More cocky about my grades and my brains...more forgiving...more gullible...more trusting..."

"Not bad things," Sarah told him, sitting up. "Not all of them."

He grinned and flopped back down on the bed in. "Depends on who you ask."

"So, what are we doing tomorrow?" Sarah asked, wrapping an arm around him.

"Well, it's been a long time since it was just Bryce and I and we weren't running for our lives," Chuck said. "Maybe we could hang out, and that would give you some time to catch up with Jo."

She smiled. "That sounds like a great idea. I've really missed her."

"I've never seen you so...giggly before," Chuck teased. "Do all your siblings bring that out in you, or just your sister?"

"Just Jo," Sarah said. "Dean brings out the side of me that wants to punch people."

"Ah."

"And Sam..."

Chuck frowned and held her tightly, kissing the top of her head.

"Sam brought out the big sister," she said quietly. "I was very protective. Dean and I both were when it came to Sam and Jo...Sam needed it more though, you know? Jo was so good at taking care of herself that we felt like if we get overprotective, we'd just wind up stepping on her toes. But Sam...Sam needed us."

He rubbed her shoulder. "I'm sure he appreciated it."

"He didn't," she said with a sad little laugh. "At least he didn't most of the time. But..."

"He was your brother."

Sarah nodded. "We should get some sleep if we're going to spend the day with the bride and groom. They're gonna wear us out."

Chuck nodded and kissed her, before letting her go get ready for bed.


	5. Chapter 5

The loud pounding on the door made Bryce jump out of his seat. Could it be that his mother had decided to show up earlier than she'd promised? That she felt that his "wedding" was in such shambles that she needed a whole extra day to get a head start on fixing his mess?

Cautiously, he walked to the door and looked out the peep hole. There stood Chuck and Sarah, ready and waiting, coffees in hand.

Bryce breathed a sigh of relief and swung the door open. "Morning."

"Hey, buddy," Chuck grinned.

"Where's Jo?" Sarah asked.

"Upstairs, I think she just got out of the shower," Bryce said. He didn't get ask them inside before Sarah had pushed past him and up the stairs. "Come on...come on in, Sarah..."

"It's a sibling thing," Chuck grinned. "Don't take it personally."

"I never do," Bryce muttered. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, Sarah and Jo are gonna have a girls' day out," Chuck told him. "I figured that left time for you and I to hit the Air and Space museum."

"Oh?"

"Yeah! It'll be great! You...me...Smithsonian..."

"Shouldn't we be working?" Bryce said with a quirked eyebrow.

"We worked last night, and your mother is coming tomorrow," Chuck said. "This is our last day of freedom."

Bryce groaned. "Don't remind me. When you knocked on the door I was scared that she'd gotten here early."

"Well, you're safe for now, buddy," Chuck grinned. "Just me, here to whisk you away to a nice quiet museum where they sell fake moon rocks."

Bryce grinned just a little. "Yeah, okay. Lemme go get ready."

* * *

"Girl time?"

"Yep," Sarah nodded. "Bryce's mother is coming into town tomorrow and from what Chuck's told me, she's...difficult. So I thought you and I could go  
out...maybe hit the shooting range and then get manicures."

Jo laughed. "Yeah, okay. Better'n bein' cooped up here, waitin' for Casey to show up and make us work on something can't be worked on any more than  
it already has."

"Than guns and nails it is," Sarah smiled. "And you can tell me all about your thrilling adventures as an NSA field agent."

"And you can tell me about your new domestic lifestyle," Jo smirked.

"You don't want to hear about my thrilling SHIELD adventures?" Sarah asked jokingly.

"I do, I want to hear all about 'em," Jo grinned. "But we're gonna need beers."

They both hopped down the stairs and toward the kitchen, just as was pulling on his coat.

"What're you ladies up to?" Chuck asked with a grin.

"Beer," Jo replied.

"This early?" Bryce frowned. "It's like ten in the morning."

"Don't be such a ninny, Bryce," Sarah teased as Jo pulled a six pack from the fridge and they both dashed up the back staircase.

Bryce shook his head, and Chuck grinned.

"Come on, buddy. Historical aircraft is just what you need to take your mind off all this."

* * *

"I'm sorry," Cameron James groveled. "I'm so sorry I failed you."

The man he was bowing his head in front of nodded slowly, the abandoned warehouse they were working out of in South East DC was dark and damp. Not ideal but it served their purposes.. "Normally I'd kill you. But you still serve a purpose. So you'll live just a little longer."

"Yes sir. Yes sir, thank you. Thank you, Sir."

* * *

They lounged on the floor of Jo's bedroom, each with a bottle of beer.

"Do you like DC?"

Jo thought about that for a moment, taking a sip from her bottle. "Y'know, I didn't think I would, but I do. You can walk everywhere you need to go...nice mix of people...never boring." She glanced at her older sister. "Which you like better? California or New York?"

Sarah laughed a little. "Definitely New York. Don't get me wrong, I have good memories of California..."

"Uh-huh."

"Shut up."

Jo grinned.

"New York is definitely more my speed. There's a French bakery down the street from our apartment." Sarah grinned. "I'm gonna get so fat."

Jo snorted. "Yeah, sure."

"They have hand-made fresh macaroons every day," Sarah said wistfully. "You remember that bakery twenty minutes down from the Roadhouse?"

Jo laughed. "With the fresh donuts and the crazy old man who hit on my mom? All the time?"

They both laughed then, and soon went quiet.

"Miss her," Jo muttered. "Specially now with all this fake wedding crap."

Sarah gazed at her fondly. "That woman would have had you over her knee so fast for joining the NSA."

"Safer'n hunting."

"Not by much."

"You're one to talk, CIA Barbie."

Sarah scoffed. "Is that really what you think of me?"

"At first it was," Jo admitted.

"Gee, thanks."

"Look, you ran off," Jo snapped. "We don't see you for a whole year, and you come back lookin'...like...like this!"

Sarah lifted her head. "I like the way I look now."

"There was nothin' wrong with the way you looked before."

"Oh, please."

Jo looked bewildered. "You were a teenager! You woulda grown out of it. You did grow out of it!" she pointed out.

Sarah hesitated. "Maybe."

Jo rolled her eyes.

"Don't you judge me!" Sarah cried. "You're not a real blonde, either!"

"Maybe not, but I dye my hair at home."

They stared at each other for a long moment and then burst into laughter again.

"This is stupid," Sarah giggled.

Jo nodded and sipped more beer. "She'd laugh about this job. My mom, I mean."

Sarah nodded back. "She would. And she'd hate Bryce."

"A lot," Jo grinned.

"Mhm."

"She'd probably love Bartowski, though," Jo said.

"Maybe," Sarah said softly. "Maybe not. Though he's not exactly a tough guy. Ellen liked 'em tough."

Jo shrugged. "All different kindsa tough."

Sarah nodded and picked at the label on her beer bottle. "You really think I can get married?"

Jo grinned. "I think if Dean can be happy with one woman, in one town fixin' cars then you can get married."

"Thank you for your permission," Sarah muttered sarcastically.

"You asked!"

Sarah laughed and took another swig.

* * *

"What do you think the girls are talking about?" Chuck asked as they wandered through the World War 1 aviation exhibit.

"Us," Bryce replied.

Chuck wrinkled his nose. "It's nice to know some things never change."

"Like what?"

Chuck just grinned at Bryce.

"Okay. I'm self-involved."

"Just a little, Buddy."

Bryce huffed a little. "What do you think they're talking about?"

"All kindsa stuff," Chuck shrugged. "Whatever sisters talk about."

"So food," Bryce joked.

Chuck laughed. "that's just your sister."

They wandered out and toward the art gallery.

"So Jo seems cool," Chuck said.

Bryce snorted. "Yeah, if you like cold, cruel women."

"Aw, come on, you barely know her," Chuck said. "She can't be all bad."

"She is," Bryce told him.

"Why, because she's not in love with you?"

Bryce grimaced, and they took a seat on one of the benches.

"That's it, isn't it?" Chuck grinned. "She didn't fall for you right away, and that makes her some kind of stone-cold bitch or something."

"I didn't say that!" Bryce cried.

"You didn't have to," Chuck told him. "It's written all over your face."

Bryce huffed and turned to him suddenly. "I hate this. I hate that you know me so well, that you have me all figured out. I hate it!"

A few passersby stopped to stare at them, and Chuck waited until they walked off before he said anything.

"What do you want me to do, pretend I know nothing about you?" Chuck asked.

"Yes!"

"No can do," Chuck shrugged. "I know you, and I'm not gonna pretend like you're somebody you're not, even if that's what you want everybody in your life to do."

Bryce wrinkled his nose. "How were we ever friends?"

"Well, I wasn't friends with CIA Super Spy Bryce Larkin," Chuck pointed out. "I was friends with fun-loving, intelligent college student Bryce."

Bryce groaned. "Must you start with this? You weren't this big a pain in my ass when we were working jobs together when you lived in England!"

"I was still bouncing back from Laudenol," Chuck told him. "I'm better now. And I'm far less willing to put up with anybody's crap."

Bryce huffed. "I don't like you anymore."

"Why, because I'm stronger now and harder to manipulate?" Chuck asked.

Bryce narrowed his eyes at him.

"You know what I think?" Chuck asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

Bryce sighed heavily. "What? What do you think?"

"I think you're so grouchy about Jo and this job because you're finally around people who can see right through you," Chuck said. "And it drives you crazy."

"Or maybe I just prefer to work alone," Bryce snapped. "Ever think of that?"

"Nope!" Chuck grinned. "Cause you liked working with Sarah."

Bryce quirked an eyebrow. "Could that be because we were sleeping together?"

"And she didn't question anything you did," Chuck nodded.

"Until she met you," Bryce grumbled.

Chuck grinned. "We're really good at rockin' each others' boats, huh?"

"You said it."

Chuck slumped back on the bench and gazed at the painting ahead of them, depicting a burning airplane in the sky. "What if you just rolled with it?" Turning to look at his friend.

Bryce frowned. "What?"

"Roll with it," Chuck repeated. "Just...be Bryce. Don't try so hard to be this other person."

They sat in silence for a long moment, before Bryce turned to him.

"So just...let it go."

Chuck nodded. "It's not easy. There's so much stuff I've had to let go of in the last year or so and it's tough."

"But in the long run..."

"It's up to you, buddy," Chuck said.

"But you think I should."

"I think the way you've been dealing with this mission isn't helping you," Chuck pointed out. "So it might be time to change tactics."


	6. Chapter 6

Bryce opened up the door to the townhouse and stepped inside, only to stop dead in his tracks. This caused Chuck to plow into him, making Bryce stumble forward slightly.

"Bryce, what-"

"Ssshhh!" Bryce admonished, and then took a deep inhale. "I smell fried chicken."

Chuck frowned. "That means I have to be quiet?"

Sarah leaned out of the kitchen door, smiling widely. "You're back!"

Chuck's frown deepened. "How much do you think they've had to drink?"

"Judging by her big easy grin and lack of shoes?" Bryce muttered. "I'm gonna guess a lot."

Chuck nodded and then grinned at Sarah. "Hey. Hey, baby. How's it going?"

"Jo and I are making dinner."

Bryce frowned, his eyes knit together. "You know how to fry chicken?"

"God now," Sarah replied, wrinkling her nose. "But Jo does."

Chuck smirked and gave Bryce a small nudge.

Bryce glowered back at him, but walked into the kitchen, past Sarah to find Jo

standing over the stove, a pan of frying chicken in front of her.

Bryce tilted his head, watching her as she watched the pan. She looked strangely beautiful; her wavy hair falling in her face, and her shoulders hunched a little.

She turned and nodded to him. "Hey."

He swallowed. Clearly she was just more attractive because she was making fried chicken.

Clearly.

"Hey, Jo."

Chuck moved forward and kissed Sarah. "Things going okay?"

Sarah nodded and slid her arms around him. "Uh-huh. How was the museum?"

"Good," Chuck grinned.

"Good," Sarah repeated, quirking a skeptical eyebrow. "If it was really good, you'd be talking non-stop about everything you saw."

"Well, we bickered a little," Chuck admitted, looking sheepish.

Jo snorted. "Bryce Larkin fought with somebody? Say it ain't so."

Bryce ginned a little and shook his head. "Real funny." He leaned against the

counter, his eyes still on her. "What possessed you to suddenly make fried chicken?"

She shrugged. "Everybody keeps takin' about it, and it goes good with beer."

"There goes my daily calorie count," Chuck grinned.

"Calorie count?" Jo asked, looking at him like he was crazy. "Ain't you skinny enough?"

"It's for health reasons more than dietary," Chuck replied awkwardly.

Sarah rubbed his side gently. "He'll just be sleepy sooner than normal."

"We should all get a good night's sleep anyways," Bryce said. "Gotta prepare for hurricane Emily."

"She cannot be that bad," Jo said as she places a few chicken breasts in the pan.

"She's not good," Bryce said.

"Agreed," Chuck nodded.

Sarah turned to him. "Between Bryce's mother and my father, who's worse?"

Chuck tilted his head, looking thoughtful. "Gun totting recluse versus the cold, scary socialite...how do you really compare those two?"

"From a few thousand miles away," Bryce muttered.

"Oh please, you love your mother," Chuck laughed softly. "She just drives you crazy."

"Mothers are supposed to drive you crazy," Jo said with a sad grin. "That's what they do."

"You ready for her to drive you crazy too?" Bryce asked, grinning a little, moving closer.

"Bring it on," Jo told him.

Sarah smiled a little and rested her head on Chuck's shoulder. It had taken a few beers to do it, but it was nice to see Jo a little more relaxed. "So what did you and Bryce bicker about?" she asked quietly.

Chuck blew out a breath. "Oh...y'know. Nothing much...the fact that Bryce is kind of a jerk, and it's not winning him any points."

Sarah grinned at him. "If anybody can drive that point home, it's you."

"Well, I don't like to brag, but I have been on the receiving end of his jerkiness quite a few times," Chuck grinned.

"If it's any consolation, you got me," Sarah pointed out.

Chuck wrinkled his nose, weighing that. "Yeah, I mean I guess that's pretty good, huh?"

She laughed and rested against him, and he kissed the top of her head.

* * *

"So where's Casey?" Chuck asked as he dug into his fried chicken.

Sarah had set the table when Jo had finished making dinner, and now the four of them sat around it, digging into the fried chicken; all but Bryce, who had opted for a healthy salad instead.

"He had some meeting in Virginia," Jo replied. "Said he'd be around tomorrow."

Chuck nodded slowly. "This chicken is amazing." He glanced at Bryce. "Sure you don't want any?"

"You know what? I'm good," Bryce countered quickly, stabbing at his salad with his fork. "I shouldn't eat anything that heavy, so..."

Sarah gave him a strange look and then shook her head, before turning back to Jo. "Anything from Dean yet?"

"Nope," Jo replied. "Jack-ass still ain't called me."

"Could always summon Cas," Sarah said jokingly.

Jo scoffed. "What, drive him so nuts he gets fed up and drops Dean on his ass on my doorstep?"

Sarah laughed. "I'd pay to see that."

"Or you could call him," Chuck offered innocently.

"That's assuming he'll pick up the phone," Jo pointed out.

"Which he probably won't," Sarah added. "Dean's been pretty messy since Sam died."

"You said he has a girlfriend, right?" Bryce asked. "Why not call her?"

"I could call her," Chuck said. "I worked with her."

Sarah's mouth fell open. "You worked with Dean's girlfriend?"

Chuck frowned. "I thought you knew. She was part of my UNIT team. She was the tiny redhead. You met her."

Sarah closed her mouth, looking embarrassed. "I guess I didn't put it together. She's...she's not really Dean's type."

Jo snorted. "Let's be honest. If it's got lady parts and a pulse, it's Dean's type."

Chuck grinned a little and turned to Sarah. "Do you want me to call her?"

Sarah hesitated and looked to Jo, who shrugged.

"Can't hurt much. Most he could do it get all mad."

"Which is normal." Sarah commented. She blew out a breath. "Okay, Chuck. If you wouldn't mind."

Chuck grinned. "I'm on it."

Sarah reached out and stroked his neck. "Thank you."

Jo turned to Bryce. "You're really sure you just want salad?"

"Yep!" Bryce replied, a little too loudly. "I am good. Great, even."

Jo nodded slowly, obviously thinking he might be crazy. "Okay, then."

* * *

Chuck walked into their hotel room later that evening and leaned against the desk, pulling his phone out.

Sarah watched him, her face a mix of nervousness and impatience.

He dialed and waited.

"Hullo?"

Chuck grinned. "Hi, Miranda, it's Chuck."

"Oh! Chuck! Hello! How are you?"

"I'm...I'm pretty good," Chuck said. "Sarah and I are in DC."

"Oh! For the wedding, yeah?" Miranda chirped. "We got an invite to that as well."

"I figured," Chuck nodded. "Are you guys gonna come?"

Miranda hesitated. "Well...I really can't say. It's up to Dean."

Chuck raised his eyebrows, and looked at Sarah. "Is he there?"

Sarah shook her head vigorously, getting to her feet.

"Actually, he just walked in," Miranda told him. "Would you like to speak to him?"

"Well, no, but I have somebody here who would."

Sarah glowered at him harshly.

A gruff voice came through the phone then. "Yeah."

Chuck held the phone out to Sarah and her glare turned to a look of outrage.

He waved the phone.

She snatched it and put it to her ear. "Hi, Dean."

"Sare? Uh...hey..."

Sarah pulled a throwing knife from her shoe and stabbed the desk with it, embedding the blade into the wood, still glaring at Chuck. "How are you?" she asked.

Chuck grinned somewhat nervously and stepped out onto the balcony to give her some privacy.

* * *

"Get rid of Bartowski."

"B-but..." Cameron stammered helplessly. "But I thought you wanted Larkin."

"I do. But I want Bartowski out of the way as well."

Cameron wrung his hands. "But doesn't have the Intersect? Isn't...isn't he valuable?"

There was a deep chuckle. "Well, I suppose I'll need his brain then."

* * *

Chuck turned when the door to the balcony opened and Sarah stepped out.

"I can't believe you did that," she said grumpily.

"If that phone call went badly I give you permission to dangle me over the balcony and threaten to drop me," he told her.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Like I need permission to do that."

"Point," Chuck nodded. "So?"

"It was..." Sarah sighed. "It was okay. He's Dean so he didn't actually talk about his feelings. Just that he's 'fine' and he's going through some changes."

Chuck wrapped an arm around her.

"He said he still might come," Sarah said quietly. "I hope he does."

He kissed her temple. "I know."

They stood together quietly for a long moment, her head resting on his shoulder.

Sarah frowned suddenly and lifted hear head. "Did you hear that?"

Chuck frowned too, looking around. "Hear what?"

Sarah pulled away and looked over the balcony. "The terrorists climbing up here to kill us."

Chuck groaned. "And here I was, hoping for a quiet night."

* * *

They'd both turned in early in preparation for Bryce's mother's arrival, but Jo couldn't sleep. She just couldn't turn her brain off.

She slid from the bed and down the back staircase to grab something sweet from the kitchen.

When she made it to the doorway she found Bryce standing in front of the refrigerator, scarfing down the leftover fried chicken.

Jo grinned and cleared her throat.

Bryce looked up and his face turned red, his chewing slowed and he looked down at the container in his hands.

Jo waited.

Bryce still didn't meet her eyes. "So uh...hi."

"Hi," Jo replied.

"Any chance of me living this down?"

"Not a one," she told him.

"Yeah, I was afraid of that."

Jo laughed.

Bryce smiled sheepishly. "It's really good fried chicken."

"Well, thanks." She walked past him and toward the cookie jar on the counter.

"It's a little late for sweets, isn't it?" Bryce asked, watching her.

"Says the man with a bucket of fried chicken in his hands," Jo smirked, taking a couple of cookies for herself.

"Touché."

"Mhm." Jo bit into a cookie but looked up when Bryce's phone rang. She looked to him, a little confused.

He frowned too, walking over to the counter and picking it up. "Hey, Chuck." He frowned, his eyes narrowing. "Be right there." He hung up and started heading up the stairs.

"What's wrong?" Jo asked, following him.

"They got attacked. We gotta go."


	7. Chapter 7

When they arrived at Chuck and Sarah's hotel room, there were already agents on the scene and sheets covering what were presumably bodies.

"More cyanide pills?" Bryce asked as he reached Chuck and Sarah.

"Yeah," Chuck nodded. "When they realized they couldn't win and we started asking questions they bit down and swallowed them."

"Great," Jo grumbled.

"The question is why go after us?" Sarah asked.

"Cause you're connected to me," Bryce said.

"Chuck's the Intersect. It's a little self-centered to think James'd go to all this trouble just for you don't you think?" Jo asked.

"Okay!" Bryce snapped. "I get it! I'm full of myself!"

Sarah looked at him like he was crazy. "Calm down. We have bigger problems than the size of your ego."

Chuck nodded. "We'll regroup tomorrow, get a hold of Casey."

"My mother gets here tomorrow," Bryce reminded him.

"We'll work around her," Chuck said. "See you in the morning."

* * *

Jo followed Bryce out of the hotel and onto the sidewalk. "What the hell is your problem?"

"My problem?!" Bryce cried, turning to her. "What's yours?! And Chuck's for that matter? I'm sorry that I'm not the nicest guy on the planet, that's Bartowski's department. We can't all be practically perfect in every way."

For the second time that night a blonde looked at him as if he were crazy. "I was tryin'a make the point that Chuck's the Intersect. And that's reason enough for a bat-crap insane terrorist to go after him."

"Well why didn't you just say that?!" Bryce yelled.

"I did, but you got all crazy before I could finish," Jo snapped.

Bryce stopped and stared at her before raising his voice again. "Fine then! Why am I still yelling?!"

Jo shook her head. "Couldn't tell you. What I can tell you is that you're not mad at me or Chuck."

He stared at her.

"You're mad cause you let yourself turn into this damn fool super spy who ain't got a life on the outside. So you wanna be all mad at somebody, look in the mirror."

Bryce stayed silent after that as they started making their way back to the row house.

The worst part was that Jo was right; he let himself slip into this.

After a long, quiet walk, they reached the steps and Bryce turned to her.

"Okay. You seem to have all the answers tonight. How do I change?"

Jo looked him up and down. "The fried chicken was a good start."

He watched her climb the steps and walk into the house, and then followed her.

* * *

It had been a long time since Bryce had pulled an all-nighter for something that wasn't work, but after getting changed into an old Atari t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants, settling himself in front of the television with a large box of Red Vines, and the rest of the leftover fried chicken, he proceeded to play video games well into the night.

It was around three when Jo wandered down the stairs, her eyes squinting in the light from the television.

"Jesus, you're still up."

"I'm Batman," Bryce replied, without looking up. "Did I wake you?"

"Nah, I couldn't sleep," she replied, sitting next to him. She glanced at him, taking in his messy hair, and the empty container that she'd used to put the leftover chicken away. "You okay?"

"I'm good," Bryce replied, mashing the buttons on his controller. "My mother's coming in tomorrow, and I figure if I stay up all night she might cut me some slack, but probably not. Also, I'm..." he sighed. "I'm taking Chuck's advice, and yours a little, and getting in touch with my nerd roots."

"Never said anything about nerd roots," Jo pointed out.

"No, but that's what I took it as," Bryce said.

"Huh."

"So why can't you sleep?" he asked her, his eyes still on his game.

Jo shrugged. "Ain't anything new," she told him. "I haven't had a good night's sleep in three years."

Bryce frowned and glanced at her briefly. "That's a little dangerous. Especially in our line of work."

"Is what it is."

"What happened three years ago?" he asked.

Jo pursed her lips.

"Come on. Open up to Doctor Larkin," Bryce grinned.

Jo took a deep breath and kept her eyes on the screen. "I uh...it's a long story."

"It's three in the morning," Bryce pointed out. "And I am kicking the pants off of Solomon Grundy. We got time."

Jo grinned a little, still not looking at him. "You know the world almost ended, right?"

Bryce nodded. "Yep. Heard the whole story. Lucifer got out, tried to wipe everything clean off the map. Got stopped by the Winchesters."

"Yeah," Jo said softly. "I was there for some of it. My mom and I. We were there."

Bryce paused the game and turned to her, looking concerned. "Only a few people made it out of that whole big mess alive. That's why Sarah's dad didn't want her anywhere near it."

Jo shrugged.

"Your mom..."

"We got jumped by hellhounds," Jo said. Her eyes still didn't meet his. They were far, far away. "I got attacked pretty bad...in the end..."

"Your mom didn't make it," Bryce said softly.

"She made them take me," Jo said. "I didn't wanna leave her there. I didn't..." she huffed. "She made Sam and Dean carry me out. Make sure I got help. Make sure I was okay."

He set down his game controller and moved a little closer to her. "Jo..."

Jo swallowed hard, and Bryce took her hands in his gently.

"Jo, that's what parents are supposed to do," Bryce said quietly. "Your mom loved you. She wasn't gonna let anything bad happen to you."

She looked at him finally, her eyes a little red in the dim light. "I let her die."

"No," he said. "No. She let you live."

They stared at each other, their faces close together for a few moments, before, Jo pulled her hands away and got to her feet.

"G'night, Bryce."

He watched her and sighed. "Goodnight, Jo."


	8. Chapter 8

He didn't really notice when the sun came up, and he was far too engrossed in the game to get to his feet when the doorbell range.

"Jo! Can you get that?!"

She hopped down the front staircase in a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top. "What's wrong with your legs that you can't get the door?"

"They're busy being Batman," he told her.

Jo headed for the door, shaking her head. "You realize this is probably your mother."

"She's seen worse."

Jo scoffed a little and looked out the peephole. On the doorstep was an older, well-dressed, petite woman with red hair and an expectant look on her face.

She opened the door and grinned politely. "Hello. You must be Bryce's mother."

The older woman gave her a slow, critiquing once-over. "And you must be the bride."

Jo stuck out a hand. "Jo Harvelle."

All she got was a glance at her outstretched digits. "Emily Gilmore. We're going to have to find you a decent manicurist."

Jo let her hand fall to her side. "It's real nice to meet you too, Mrs. Gilmore."

Emily stepped past her through the doorway and looked around. "Well, it's certainly not awful for being on the government's dime." She walked into the living room and stopped when she spotted Bryce. "Oh for god's sake."

"Do not interrupt my game," Bryce said without taking his eyes off the screen, a Red Vine hanging out of his mouth.

"You can't pause for one second to say hello to your mother?" Emily asked. "I can see how a man dressed as a bat on a screen would be far more important than me."

"He's real," Bryce said.

"Oh, please."

"He's Bruce Wayne."

"What? Of course he's not Bruce Wayne, I know Bruce Wayne, he's one of your sister's oldest friends. He is not Batman."

Bryce grinned and paused his game. He got to his feet and walked over. "Hello, Mother."

"You're a mess."

"It's good to see you too."

"Did you sleep at all last night?" Emily asked.

"Nope."

"Of course not. That would have been sensible," Emily sighed. "Have you even started planning this wedding?"

He turned to Jo. "have we?"

She shook her head.

He turned back to Emily. "Nope."

"I thought not," Emily sighed. "That means we have a lot of work to do."

Bryce frowned and turned back to Jo. "Do we even have a budget?"

"We'd have to talk to General Beckman," Jo said, pulling her phone out. "Lemme text her."

As they waited for a reply, Emily fussed with Bryce's hair. "You need a haircut."

"I like my hair."

"It's far too long."

"It's not."

Jo watched them and grinned a little. When her phone buzzed, she clicked it and glanced down. She handed it off to Bryce, who shrugged and then handed it to Emily.

Emily looked at the number on the screen and her eyes widened. "ten thousand dollar?! How on earth am I supposed to plan a wedding on such a small budget?!"

Jo blinked. "Ten thousand's a lotta green," she commented.

"Not enough for a decent wedding," Emily told her.

"A decent wedding, or the wedding you have planned in your head for me?" Bryce asked, quirking an eyebrow.

He didn't get a response. Instead, Emily turned to Jo.

"You tell General Cheapskate that anything less than sixty thousand won't do."

Jo stared at Emily with wide eyes.

"Mother," Bryce said gently. "Ten will be plenty, especially considering the circumstances."

Emily glowered, and took the phone, typing into the text program.

Bryce sighed and gave Jo an apologetic look.

"Why don't I go upstairs...get dressed and then head out and pick up some breakfast?" Jo offered.

Bryce nodded and watched her go, before turning back to his mother.

"You're not going to give on this, are you?" he asked.

"Why should I?" Emily asked, staring down at the phone, seemingly trying to will it to give her a response.

Bryce sighed heavily, and spoke quietly. "Because this is a mission, and not my real wedding?"

"Thank god for that," Emily said. "That girl is a mess."

"Don't talk about her like that," Bryce said sternly. "She's a good agent, and we're in the same boat in this."

Emily quirked an eyebrow at her son.

"Just...give her a break, okay?" Bryce insisted. "Please?"

Emily huffed. "Fine."

"Thank you."

The phone rang, and Bryce snatched it from his mother, knowing exactly who would be on the other end. "Yes, General."

"Larkin. Who is trying to bargain for more money for this wedding?"

Bryce glanced at Emily and sighed. "My mother, General. She feels that she can't plan a decent wedding without a larger budget."

"And who said that she was planning this wedding to begin with, Agent Lakin?" the General asked icily.

"She did," Bryce grinned. "She's very insistent."

"And what about the planner that the CIA has on retainer for this?" the General asked.

"Well, to be honest, my mother plans a hell of a party," Bryce replied. "And Colonel Casey planned a better wedding for Chuck's sister than the Company planner has ever-"

He could hear her glower through the phone. "And how much of the hardworking, United States taxpayers' money would Mrs. Gilmore like to spend?"

Bryce sighed and turned to his mother. "How much do you need to throw the wedding?"

"Ninety."

"Thousand?" Bryce asked, eyes widening.

"Absolutely not!" General Beckman snapped. "Is she out of her mind?!"

"Mother," Bryce said evenly. "Ninety is far, far too much. It's far too much."

Emily crossed her arms. "Fifty."

"Twenty-five," Beckman said through gritted teeth.

"Twenty-five?" Bryce repeated, giving her a pleading look.

Emily glowered at him. "Bryce Richard, don't you dare give me that look."

Bryce widened his eyes, ever so slightly, knowing that it would give him the appearance of a small woodland creature, despite his messy hair and unshaved face.

"Thirty," Emily said, crossing her arms.

"General?" Bryce asked into the phone.

Beckman groaned. "Fine. Thirty. But this had better be worth it, Agent Larkin. You had better get the job done."

Bryce nodded. "I always do." He hung up the phone and sighed heavily, turning to his mother again. "Happy?"

"Not particularly."

"That's still a lot of money to plan a wedding with," Bryce commented.

"Not nearly enough," Emily replied. "And that's not why I'm not particularly happy."

Bryce sighed heavily. "You're unhappy because of my chosen profession."

"Among other things," Emily said. "I don't see why you couldn't find a more suitable fiancé."

"Oh god I need coffee," Bryce groaned as he walked into the kitchen.

Emily followed him, watching him fumble with a coffee press. "If you needed a fiancé, I could have found you a perfectly nice one. You know, Cissy Kingston's daughter is still single."

"In high school, Danika Kingston snorted her weight in cocaine and had sexual relations with eighty percent of the lacrosse team," Bryce blurted out.

Emily stared at him, her eyes wide with shock. "Bryce!"

"It's true! And while I have no room to judge over who and how many people she had sex with, since I have been no better, the coke was a huge turnoff."

Emily narrowed her eyes at him. "And just how many people did you sleep with in high school?"

Bryce blinked at her. "Nobody. I didn't have sex with anybody I was a perfect little angel."

"Bryce! Did you learn nothing from you sister?!"

"I was careful!" Bryce cried. "I promise you there are no little Bryce's running around anywhere."

"There had better not be," Emily muttered.

Jo stepped down the stairs then, tugging on her jacket. "Lord help us if you ever have kids."

"Me? What about you?" Bryce snapped. "You would have big-mouthed, sour little children, and nobody wants that."

Jo rolled her eyes. "You want me to pick up anything?"

"Muffins," Bryce said.

"Got it. Bran okay?"

Bryce frowned. "You bring back bran and I will hurt you."

"Like you could," Jo said. "I'll be back."

"No hurry," Bryce called after her.

Emily gasped when Jo lifted her middle finger, waving it at them, and Bryce rolled his eyes.

"Real nice, Harvelle."

Emily waited until Jo walked out the door and closed it behind her to turn back to her son. "And you're telling me that Danika Kingston isn't better than that?"

Bryce grinned a little. "Danika Kingston can't shoot a gun."

Emily watched him as he made coffee. "Oh god."

"What?"

"You like her."

Bryce blinked. "Danika Kingston? Not particularly. I mean she wasn't terrible-looking in high school, but she wasn't really my-"

"That Jo girl," Emily said slowly. "You actually like her."

"I work with her."

"Oh don't try to pull that with me," Emily warned him. "I may not know your sister as well as I thought I did, but I know you, and you like her."

Surprisingly, Bryce felt a light flush creep up his face. "Mother."

"You're handsome and smart and very successful," Emily pointed. She watched him carefully as he poured coffee into two cups. "You can do better."

He looked up, frowning at her. "We're not discussing this."

"Alright," Emily said lightly as she took the cup of coffee he offered her and then sipped from it. "If you say so."

Bryce glowered at her and drank half of his own down in one gulp. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Fine."

"She drives me crazy."

"You said you didn't want to talk about it."

"I don't!"

"Then we won't," Emily replied, sipping more coffee daintily.

They stood in silence for a long moment before Bryce cracked.

"Okay. Fine. I may be...starting to enjoy her company," he admitted bitterly.

"I see."

More silence followed as Bryce poured himself another cup of coffee.

"Danika Kingston really did that much drugs?" Emily asked absently.

"More."

"I see."

The front door opened then, and Bryce looked up, expecting to find Jo had come back sooner than he thought she would, but instead found Chuck walking in.

"Hey, Buddy, I-" Chuck stopped when Emily turned around to look at him. "Uuuh. Hi. Hi. Hi, Mrs. Gilmore. Welcome to…hi."

Emily grinned thinly. "Chuck. Eloquent as ever."

Chuck grinned awkwardly and then looked to Bryce and frowned. "Wow. What happened to you?"

"All-nighter," Bryce replied, sipping his coffee. "Video games. Red vines. Fried chicken."

"That's nostalgic," Chuck commented. "Why wasn't I invited?"

Emily rolled her eyes. "You're both hopeless."

"Thanks," Chuck grinned. "Thanks for that."

"Mother, Chuck is my best man," Bryce told her.

"So it's the blind leading the blind," Emily said. "That's wonderful. I'm sure this wedding will be a complete success."

"Well, now that you're here, it'll go great!" Chuck said, a little too enthusiastically; trying too hard to channel his old self.

Bryce cleared his throat. "Mother convinced the General to loosen her purse strings a little. The budget went up."

"Not nearly enough," Emily said. "But I'll make do. Do you know what size Jo is?"

Bryce thought about that for a moment and then shrugged. "Size tiny and annoying?"

Chuck gave a soft laugh. "She's not that bad."

"She's pretty bad," Bryce said. "But not that bad."

Chuck smiled and patted his shoulder before moving into the kitchen to pour himself some coffee. "Speaking of, where is she?"

"She went to get some breakfast," Bryce said. "Where's Sarah?"

"Sleeping in," Chuck said.

"Who is Sarah?" Emily asked, not really caring.

"Jo's sister," Bryce said. "And Chuck's girlfriend. And the maid of honor."

Emily nodded, still obviously apathetic as she sipped her coffee. "And when are their parents arriving?"

Bryce cleared his throat awkwardly. "Actually, Jo's parents are no longer with us." He turned to Chuck. "Is Bobby coming?"

Chuck shrugged. "No idea. I don't think so. Sarah would have mentioned it."

"Bobby said no," Jo told them as she walked back inside, holding a box of muffins. "Hey, Chuck."

"Morning, Jo," Chuck grinned.

She set the box down and turned to Emily. "Okay. You wanna plan this wedding, let's plan this wedding."

Emily quirked an eyebrow. "Just like that."

"I put this whole thing in your hands. You obviously know what you're doing and I don't have a damn clue."

Bryce cringed. "Jo. Maybe you wanna rethink this…"

"Nope," Jo said. "This has to get done. We gotta get us married, and your mother seems to think she knows exactly how that's gonna happen. So let's go. Let's get this show on the G-D road."

Emily stared at the younger woman; a look that was halfway between pleased at the notion of being handed the reigns of the wedding, and horrified at the way those reigns had been handed to her.

Silence filled the room, and Bryce hung his head, shaking it.

"Well," Emily said, smiling a little. "The first thing we need is to find you a wedding dress."

Jo nodded. "Makes sense. Let's go get one."

Emily raised an eyebrow slowly. "One does not simply go and get a wedding dress."

"Like walking into Mordor," Chuck pointed out playfully.

The assembled group stared at him and he slumped.

"Or. Y'know…not."

"That's great, though," Bryce said, breaking the silence. "You ladies can go and dress shop, and Chuck, Casey and I can...do...the...guy...the guy parts."

Jo gave him a sour look at that notion, but didn't get to voice her unhappiness.

The door opened again, and this time, Casey lumbered in, holding a travel mug. "You mean we can track down James, while the girls make this thing authentic. It's actually a good plan. I'm surprised."

"I'm sorry, who is this?" Emily asked, looking up at Casey warily.

"Colonel John Casey, this is Bryce's mother, Emily Gilmore," Jo said, gesturing toward each of them.

Casey nodded. "Ma'am." He glanced down at the box of muffins and frowned. "No bran?"

Jo grinned a little and Bryce rolled his eyes.

"Let's just..." Chuck put up his hands. "I'll call Sarah and then you ladies can head out when she gets here."

Jo groaned.

"We'll keep you apprised of the situation," Bryce said. "And it's unlikely James will strike in broad daylight anyways."

"Famous last words, Larkin," Casey smirked, picking up a corn muffin and taking a bite. "Hrmph. Bran's better."


	9. Chapter 9

The bridal boutique was on the main drag in Georgetown, at the top of a steep hill.

Emily led the charge expertly from the corner they'd been dropped off at ("What is all this traffic?!" Emily had cried. "Why aren't these people at work?"), while Sarah and Jo lagged behind her a little.

It was a little cold, and the cobblestone streets beneath their feet somehow felt a little harder from the October chill.

"Think we'll survive this?" Jo asked.

"I'm intending to," Sarah told her. "I'm not so sure about you."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Sis."

Sarah grinned slightly. "Anytime."

"This is completely humiliating you know," Jo told her. "Bein' booted out of finding our terrorist to go dress shopping."

"We're protecting our cover," Sarah reasoned. "We don't have to like it, we just have to get it over with."

"Why are the two of you walking so slowly?" Emily asked sternly. "We have appointment."

The two blondes hurried and caught up with the older redhead just as she opened the door to the small boutique.

The place was stuffed full with gowns and dresses of all shapes, and Jo and Sarah stopped dead in their tracks.

"Aw, hell," Jo said.

"What did you expect?" Emily asked, turning to give her a judgmental look. "We're in a bridal boutique."

"Emily! Darling!"

A short, round woman around Emily's age with shockingly high penciled-in eyebrows that made her look as if she were in a constant state of shock and brown hair styled into a beehive floated over to them. Her dress seemed as if it were something out of the fifties; a melon color with polka dots.

"Oh, Priscilla, it's wonderful to see you," Emily gushed, air kissing the other woman on both cheeks and receiving air kisses in return.

"Now, who is my bride?" Priscilla asked, looking both Sarah and Jo over. "Tell me it's the tall one."

Emily cleared her throat softly and stepped over, placing a slightly awkward hand on Jo's arm. "This is Bryce's fiancé, Jo."

Jo grinned, hoping it was a bright one. "Nice to meet you, Miss Priscilla."

Priscilla gave a high-pitched titter. "'Miss Priscilla'! How wonderfully down-home. I like her Emily, even if she is short."

Jo felt her grin crack a little.

"Come, Come, Come this way," the dressmaker said, bustling through the overstuffed racks to a small space with a pedestal in front of a mirror and a door which more than likely led to a dressing room.

Again, Sarah and Jo lagged behind the older ladies.

"I'm in hell," Jo muttered.

"It can't be that bad," Sarah whispered back.

Jo gave her an incredulous look. "Did you see that dress in the window?"

"Okay, yes, that was bad," Sarah agreed.

"Come here, please," Priscilla said, gripping Jo's arm and dragging her over to the pedestal.

Jo let herself be dragged, as she gave Sarah a wide-eyed stare. She stumbled a little on her way up onto the pedestal, and then suddenly Priscilla's hands were everywhere; her waist and hips, her shoulders and breasts.

"You might be short, but you're thin, honey," Priscilla said, ignoring Jo's attempts to shake her off. "Now! When you picture yourself in a wedding gown, what do you see?"

Jo blinked and looked to Sarah, who gave her the universal facial expression for "how should I know?"

While Emily gave an eye roll, Priscilla smiled indulgently. "Ball gown? Maybe a mermaid gown? Something a little sexy? Something a little more demure?"

Jo swallowed. "Well, I –"

"Let's try some ball gowns," Emily said with a slightly wicked grin. She took Priscilla by the arm. "Here, I'll help you pick them."

"I don't know, Emily," Priscilla replied. "I have an excellent sense for these things, and I don't think this is a ball gown girl."

"Nonsense! She loves them!"

Jo groaned, and Sarah did her best not to giggle.

* * *

An hour later, Jo had tried on seven gowns. All of them were fluffy and bejeweled and, in Jo's opinion, absolutely awful. But she had kept her mouth shut; had let Priscilla and Emily critique each gown as she was led out of the dressing room and made to stand before them.

Occasionally Jo shot daggers at Sarah who was obviously trying very hard to hide her amusement.

"Just wait til it's your turn," Jo taunted as she walked out in the eighth dress; a corseted monstrosity with a deep sweetheart neckline her modest bust could not support.

Sarah couldn't stop a loud huff of laughter. "Oh I'm sorry," she told the other women. "I'm so sorry it's just…these dresses are crazy."

Jo looked around the boutique, looking for anything that would save her, and found a plain but fluffy ball gown hanging on the rack. She pointed. "There. That one. That's it."

Emily followed her finger and then wrinkled her nose. "That one? But it's so…plain."

"Yep. That's my dress."

"Well, it is a lovely pick," Priscilla said. "And I suppose you're starting to get a little tired of Emily and I using you as our own living fashion doll."

"Kinda," Jo said, working to keep her voice even.

Priscilla tittered again and took the gown Jo had pointed out off the rack. "Come along, dear. Hopefully this will be your last one."

Jo followed her back into the dressing room and sighed, struggling to unzip the dress she was wearing.

"You know," Priscilla said gently. "You don't seem too thrilled about getting married."

"I just ain't one for dresses," Jo muttered.

"Is that all?" Priscilla asked, helping her shed the gown carefully.

"Never thought I'd get married, either," Jo told her, crossing her arms over her chest and watching the older woman unzip the new frock.

Priscilla helped her step in one foot after the other. "Oh come now, my dear, everyone dreams of their wedding day."

Jo sighed. She didn't mention that she never expected to live to see her wedding day, and decided, as the older woman strapped her into the frock, that it was best to keep that to herself.

"Oh, my."

She blinked and looked at Priscilla, who was looking in the mirror. Jo turned toward it, her eyebrows raising in surprise.

"My dear girl, you look stunning."

Jo took a deep breath as she was suddenly flooded by strange thoughts about wishing her mother were there, and what the hell kinda shoes she would wear with this thing.

She shook out her head and took another deep breath. "Okay, then. Let's get this over with." She lifted the skirt of the dress and marched toward the dressing room door, stepping out and onto the pedestal. "This'll work."

Silence filled the little boutique as Emily stared in shock, and Sarah just smiled sadly.

"Yeah," she said softly, suddenly feeling mildly choked up. "That'll definitely work, Sis."

Priscilla clapped her hands and smiled widely. "It'll do more than work. It's the perfect dress!"

"Yes," Emily said quietly. "Yes it is."

* * *

They'd been tracing their attackers for a number of hours when they got the call from Beckman.

"Cameron James is dead."

Bryce clenched his jaw and looked to Casey and Chuck.

"They found his body inside the Air and Space Museum this afternoon," Beckman went on.

Casey grunted. "Somebody left us a message."

"Yeah, but who?" Chuck asked. "Who else has got it out for Bryce?"

"And you and Sarah," Bryce added. "Jo pointed that out last night; that whoever's doing this wants more than just revenge on me, if he's after the Intersect."

Chuck stared at his friend and frowned. "Maybe that's the key."

"What?" Casey asked.

"The Intersect," Chuck said. "Who knows about the Intersect, aside from our circle, and some unfounded rumors inside the spy community?"

"The Ring," Casey said.

"Fulcrum," Bryce added.

"Both went under. Anybody else?" Chuck asked.

"Of course not!" Beckman cried. "The Intersect project was one of our most guarded secrets! No one knew-"

"The candidates knew," Casey said. "They had to have known."

"All of the candidates were killed," Beckman told them. "In the same blast that killed Director Graham."

Bryce thought hard, his eyebrows knitting together. "General, what about Quinn?"

He waited for an answer, but none came.

Chuck looked from Casey to Bryce. "Who is Quinn?"

"Got me," Casey said. He turned to Bryce. "Larkin?"

"Nicholas Quinn was the original top pick for the Intersect," Bryce said.

Chuck did a double take. "B…what? I thought you were."

"I wasn't," Bryce said gravely. "I was considered, but at the time they told me my ego was too large to be an acceptable candidate."

Casey snorted. "There's a shocker."

"Nicholas Quinn has been off the grid for a number of years," Beckman said slowly. "We sent him to Afghanistan after Bryce stole the Intersect."

"After that?"

"He was captured there…tortured…"

Chuck's eyes widened. "And after that?"

"He was discharged from the CIA," Beckman said. "After refusing psychological treatment."

"Yeah, he never was big on that kinda thing," Bryce muttered.

"You knew him?" Casey asked.

"Well, we were both up for the Intersect," Bryce told him. "And…he was the reason I stole the Intersect in the first place."

Chuck wrinkled his nose. "What?"

Bryce sighed. "Nicholas was unhinged, and he hid it really, really well. When he was chosen for the Intersect, Fulcrum contacted me, thinking I'd be bitter. I used their resources to send it to Chuck and then destroy it."

"And now he wants to kill you," Casey growled.

"Us," Chuck corrected.

"We don't know that it's him," Beckman snapped, and then paused. "But you're going to find out. Where are Agents Harvelle and Walker?"

"Dress shopping with my mother," Bryce said. "I should send her home."

"No," Beckman ordered. "You will go ahead with the plan for now."

Bryce narrowed his eyes. "General-"

"If it is Quinn, we don't want him knowing that we're onto him," Beckman explained. "Someone wants you and Agents Bartowski and Walker dead, and we're trying to draw them out…we're just going to have to move up the time table."

Bryce's eyes widened. "We're moving up the wedding?"

Chuck tilted his head, looking at Bryce, obviously confused. "Calm down, Buddy, it's not like it's real."

"The wedding will take place next weekend," Beckman said. "Get it done, Agents. Even if it's not Quinn we're dealing with, we need to end this."

Casey grunted. "Won't that be suspicious, General? Movin' the wedding up to a week instead of a couple months right after James gets offed?"

"Does our enemy know when the wedding is, Colonel Casey?" Beckman asked, obviously trying to be patient.

"Invitations haven't even gone out," Bryce muttered.

"Make it happen," Beckman told them, and then hung up.

Bryce sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes. "Okay. Okay. We need tuxes. And more guests."

"Cake," Casey grunted out. "A venue, flowers, a wedding band, place settings…food…center-pieces…lighting, table linens and chair decore..."

Bryce stared at them before heading for the stairs. "Excuse me. I have to go chew on my hair in a corner."

Chuck sighed and turned to Casey. "That was a little cruel, don't you think?"

Casey just snorted.

* * *

James had failed him for the last time.

Nicholas Quinn had thought the man would be useful in this endeavor, but he'd been wrong, and James had proved more helpful dead than alive.

He watched from across the street, munching on some popcorn, as the paramedics and secret service closed off the Air and Space museum.

A taxi drove up, then, and two women got out. Both blonde. The taller one was dressed in a crème colored biker jacket and black skinny jeans, her feet encased in a pair of high heels. The shorter woman wore an olive green army and scuffed jeans with a pair of black work boots.

Larkin's fiancé and her maid of honor, Sarah Walker.

"What are you lovely ladies doing here?" Quinn muttered to himself, narrowing his eyes. He held up his phone and snapped a quick photo of the bride, sending the picture to an ID program James had lifted from the FBI before Quinn had killed him.

He watched as the women were let into the museum without any fuss, and then looked down at his phone.

Joanna Harvelle. NSA.

Quinn huffed and smirked. "So. An agency wedding. How sweet."

* * *

Jo gave a low whistle as they walked around the corner and spotted the dead body hanging from the Spirit of St. Louis.

"So it was a good call, sending Mrs. Gilmore back to her hotel," Jo said.

"How the hell did he even get up there?" Sarah asked, frowning.

"Strung up," General Beckman told them as she walked up. "Agent Larkin seems to think this was Nicholas Quinn's doing."

"Who's that?" Jo asked, wrinkling her nose.

Beckman took a deep breath. "He was the original candidate for the Intersect Project. Before Bryce stole it and sent it to Chuck."

"So now he's after Bryce for revenge?" Sarah asked, looking back up at Cameron James' body.

"Seems legit," Jo said. "I can buy plenty of people wanting Larkin dead."

"So…James was working for Quinn?" Sarah asked, turning to the general. "Why would Quinn kill him?"

"Failure," Jo pointed out. "James' goons tried to jump as at the restaurant when you first got here, and then they went after you and Chuck in your hotel."

"Which means Quinn knows Chuck is the Intersect," Sarah said, her voice tinged with a hint of panic.

Jo placed a hand on Sarah's shoulder gently. "What's our next move?"

"We're moving up the wedding to next weekend," Beckman told them. "Get your ducks in a row, ladies."

"Good thing I found a dress," Jo muttered, still staring up at James' body. She blinked and then looked away.

"Okay?" Sarah asked quietly.

Jo nodded and swallowed hard. "Yeah. Yeah, just…ain't seen one of those in a couple of years. Least not that bad."

Sarah nodded understandingly. "General, do you need us for anything else? I think we're going to head back to the house."

"Go ahead," Beckman nodded. "You have a lot of work to do, even if it is just having to put up with Agent Larkin's mother."

Jo snorted, and Sarah grinned a little.

"Thank you, General."

They stepped out of the museum and passed the police and paramedics, taking off across the street in silence.

"Excuse me."

It was a gravely voice, but not unpleasant, and when they turned, they found that it belonged to a thick-set man with olive skin and deep, dark eyes. His hair was raven black, with flecks of gray at the roots, and his smile seemed…

It reminded Jo a little of Crowley, and she shivered.

"Can we help you?" Sarah asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"I was wondering if you had any spare change," the man said. "I lost my wallet, and I need some change to catch the ride-on back home."

"Sorry," Sarah told him.

Jo nodded. "Yeah, sorry."

He smiled again, wider this time, and placed a hand on Jo's narrow shoulder, causing her to flinch back. "That's alright, ladies. You have a lovely evening."

With that, he walked off.

Jo shook her head. "Shit. Shit, that was him," she said quietly.

Sarah took a deep breath. "He made us."


End file.
